Off To The Races
by Brandi Golightly
Summary: Three months after Rome, Clint and Natasha are sent on a mission to Monaco to take down a casino tycoon and human trafficker by the name of Pierre Moreau. Gambling, torture, and car chases ensue. Sequel to To Rome With Love.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, here it is everyone! The first sequel to _To Rome With Love_. This takes place in Monaco so we're going to have some French going on in this story (don't worry, I'll have translations for you guys). Here's the first chapter! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Clint, Natasha, or any other of the Avengers characters. They belong to Marvel.**

* * *

Natasha sighed as she felt Clint's rough yet gentle hands running up and down her back. Despite the dark curtains being drawn, she knew it was sometime slightly before sunrise. Sleep was an enigma to them so it was not a big deal.

"What are you doing, Barton?" The question was dripping with irritation but Natasha could feel the smile spreading across her face as Clint continued to softly run his hands up and down her bare back.

Today was Natasha's physical to see if she was fit enough to return to the field. The botched mission in Rome had left her with a punctured lung and a stab wound to her lower back. But she still had the satisfaction of knowing that Yelena Belova, her nemesis from her days in the Red Room, had been killed by her partner. For three months, Natasha followed orders by staying in bed and only walking around if necessary or when she was at her doctor's appointments. She had made a decent amount of progress. Walking had been painful for her at first but now she could walk around at her doctor's appointments with ease.

However, she still got some painful aches at the small of her back every so often. If she walked around too much or lied in a certain position for too long, it tended to feel like that knife Alessandro Bosco had used to stab her was being thrust into her back once again. She knew that when the doctors asked her if she had any pain, she should tell them. They were only trying to get her back to fighting form, but she always figured she didn't need help from them. Not when she had Clint.

"How's your back?" Clint asked, his voice husky. In the past three months, she and Clint's relationship had escalated. At first, Clint had been polite enough to let her have his bed while he crashed on the couch. But after about a month, Natasha put a stop to that, claiming she felt bad for taking his bed. In reality, Natasha felt lonely and in the event of needing to go somewhere in the middle of the night, Clint would be there. For the remaining two months, things had escalated between the two of them, reaching its high point the night before when the two of them had decided to have sex for the first time. Natasha just hoped it didn't ruin her chances of going back in the field.

"It's okay," Natasha answered as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Tell me the truth, Tasha," Clint said through clenched teeth.

"Clint, it's fine," Natasha said. Really, it wasn't. She was currently lying on her side with her back facing Clint. The position she was in was making the pain excruciating. She didn't want to admit it to Clint, mostly because he was still beating himself up over her injury. He blamed himself for it. He blamed himself for being too little, too late. If he had just found his bow and quiver a couple seconds earlier, Natasha would've never gotten stabbed.

She felt his hands disappear from her back and the bed shook as he rolled onto his back with a groan. "It was too soon," he griped. "We shouldn't have had sex last night. You're probably in a lot of pain."

"Would you stop?" Natasha snapped. As much as it physically pained her, she rolled over so that she was facing Clint. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His eyes didn't meet Natasha's.

"Clint," she said softly.

"Hmm?" he hummed.

She snuggled close to him and rested a hand on his bare chest. "You really need to stop beating yourself up over this. I'm the one who chose to go to Rome. I'm the one who chose to go into the catacombs to find you. I had my back turned for one second and I'm paying the price for it. This is all me, not you. Understand?"

Natasha turned to face Clint and her green eyes connected with his blue-grey ones as he nodded in understanding. She could see the guilt in his eyes. No matter what, that would always be there. He would always blame himself for what happened to her. He would always blame himself for the reason Loki attacked New York. He would always blame himself for the reason Phil was dead.

"And to say that we had sex a little too early, I'll have you know that that was the best night I've had in a while," Natasha purred seductively.

"Yeah, well, you've been in and out of the medical bay for the last three months. You don't have much to compare it to," Clint grumbled but with a slight chuckle in his voice.

"Exactly," Natasha said. "I haven't been having the time of my life for the past three months. Last night was amazing."

"You're just saying that," Clint said teasingly.

Natasha smiled at Clint before turning to rest her head back into a comfortable position against his chest. "But, to tell you the truth, my back actually is killing me."

"Fuck Nat," Clint growled.

"Lying on my side for too long makes it hurt," she said nonchalantly with a shrug of her shoulders.

Clint sighed. "Roll over onto your stomach."

Natasha did as she was told as she rolled onto her stomach and grabbed a pillow to rest her head on. She felt Clint straddle her outstretched legs and then gently started to knead the base of her spine.

"Clint…" she moaned with delight. "Oh my God."

"Better?" he asked as he continued to knead the base of her spine with his rough and calloused hands.

"Much," she moaned as she buried her face into the pillow.

Clint's hands continued to loosen the muscles in Natasha's lower back but after a while, he began to make his way up her back. Natasha smiled into the pillow as she let out a sigh. "Rome was the best thing to ever happen to me," Natasha said.

"Why's that?" Clint asked.

Natasha moaned as Clint massaged a knot in her right shoulder blade. "Oh God, because of this," she moaned.

"SHIELD has plenty of massage therapists that can do this just as well, if not better, than me," Clint said.

"Where's the fun in that though?" Natasha inquired. "Would you really want some sleaze bag touching me?"

"It's not like you wouldn't be able to defend yourself if they went a little too far," Clint said teasingly as he massaged the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Natasha squirmed from underneath him and rolled over onto her back so she could face Clint. Her hair was splayed out against the white pillow like a fiery halo.

"Admit it," she said playfully. "You would get jealous."

Clint shrugged. "Maybe."

"Liar," she shot back.

Clint smirked before lowering himself down to crush his lips to hers. Clint let out a sigh as he felt Natasha run her hands up his chest, her fingers lingering on the gunshot wound scar on his right shoulder. Just as he hitched her left leg up past his hips, both of their alarms blared from the bedside tables on either side of the bed. Clint groaned as he pulled away from Natasha.

"Probably should get ready," Clint suggested.

Natasha nodded. "We should get out of bed before we do something that will permanently mess up my back and keep me out of the field for good."

"Mhmm," Clint hummed as he rolled off of her.

"Because let's face it," Natasha said as she sat up. "If I'm never allowed out in the field, neither are you. You're never going on another solo mission ever again." She whipped the covers off of her body and walked off towards the bathroom as she felt Clint staring at her bare backside.

* * *

It wasn't long until Clint and Natasha were marching through the front doors of SHIELD's New York base. Clint scanned his ID to gain access to the medical bay and he held the door open for Natasha. The moment she set foot in the medical bay, several nurses started to order her into a wheelchair. Natasha rolled her eyes before reluctantly sitting down in the wheelchair. Clint ushered the nurse away from the handles as he took reign and pushed her down the hall to their assigned examination room.

When they reached Natasha's assigned examination room, Clint helped her out of the chair and walked her over to the table. Once she was situated, Clint gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before exiting the room. Natasha always hated the fact that Clint could never be in the room during her appointments. If he was allowed in the room, there would be far less incidents between Natasha and the medical personnel. Let's face it. Clint kept her sane.

"Ah, Agent Romanoff, good to see you," Dr. Toleno said as he entered the room. He closed the door behind him and then took a seat on the rolling chair. He set Natasha's medical file on the desk and quickly flipped it open to glance at the notes from her previous appointment.

When he was briefed on Natasha's previous appointment, he turned back to Natasha. "How's your back today?" he said as he stood up and approached Natasha. He walked a couple steps past her to lift up her shirt and examined the nasty knife wound scar on her lower back. "Any pain here?" he asked as he applied pressure to the area.

Natasha immediately felt pain shoot up and down her back but she kept her heart rate and her facial expressions under control. "Nope, it feels fine," she lied.

"How about when I do this?" Dr. Toleno asked as he tapped the area with a piece of medical equipment. The pain was close to unbearable.

"Nope, feels fine," she lied again.

"Okay," Dr. Toleno said as he pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and lifted her shirt up a little higher. "I want a deep breath," he said as he placed the cool metal of the stethoscope on her skin. Natasha did as she was told. Despite having a punctured lung, she could breathe just fine. Many victims of a punctured lung tended to still have difficulty breathing months after but Natasha felt fine.

Even if she didn't, this was one thing she couldn't lie about. She could lie about the pain in her lower back, but since Dr. Toleno was listening directly to her lungs with a stethoscope, there was no way she could lie about being in pain. Luckily, she wasn't.

"Another deep breath," Dr. Toleno asked as he moved the stethoscope to another place on her back. Natasha took another deep breath with ease before releasing it.

"Hmm, okay," Dr. Toleno said as he removed the stethoscope from her back and put it back around her neck. "Sounds good."

Natasha nodded wordlessly as she watched Dr. Toleno return to his seat and jot down a couple notes in her medical file. When he finished, he dropped his pen onto the table before standing up again.

"Okay, just a few exercises for your back to determine your health and then you can go," Dr. Toleno said. Natasha rolled her eyes before sliding off of the examination table and following Dr. Toleno out the room to the rehabilitation center down the hall. This part of every appointment was by far her least favorite. She hated doing all the stretching exercises for the muscles in her back. It always took forever, practically an hour.

Dr. Toleno led her through a series of stretches that helped her back. It was an hour of walking exercises and yoga which after the hour was up, Natasha was bored with it. When they finished, they returned to the examination room for one last exam before Dr. Toleno returned to Natasha's medical file to jot down some more notes.

Natasha was nervous. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She lied through her teeth that her back didn't hurt when really it felt like it was on fire. Clint was right. Having sex last night was a bad idea. If they hadn't, maybe her back would feel like it was only mildly on fire. But as she watched Dr. Toleno jot down a novel into her medical file, Natasha grew increasingly nervous.

"Okay," Dr. Toleno said as he tucked his pen into his lab coat pocket and closed her medical file. "Everything looks good. I don't see why you can't go back in the field."

"Really?" Natasha blurted out.

"I would just advise that you keep up with your exercises to keep strengthening the muscles," Dr. Toleno said. "Otherwise, I'm clearing you. You're good to go."

It took every ounce of energy in Natasha's body to not jump up and scream out of joy. But Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, did not do that. So with a blank expression, she thanked Dr. Toleno before following him out of the examination room. As he stopped by the reception desk to return her medical file, he mentioned to her that he would talk to Fury later that day to let him know about the final appointment. Natasha thanked him once again before quickly rushing down the hall to find Clint.

When she reached the waiting room, Clint was seated in the corner, playing with his phone. Sensing her presence, he stood up from his chair and crossed the room to meet her.

"Well?" he asked.

"I'm all good," she said.

Clint's eyes widened from excitement. "Really?"

"Yeah," she said before dropping her voice to a lower volume. "Those hands of yours work wonders."

"You haven't even seen what my hands can do," Clint muttered just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

"Well, what do you say we go back to the tower and you show me just what you're talking about, Hawk?" Natasha purred seductively.

Clint arched his eyebrow in response before turning to head out of the medical bay with Natasha hot on his heels.

* * *

Clint and Natasha lied in bed later that night in a tangle of limbs and bed sheets when they heard their phones ring. They both groaned as they simultaneously snatched their respective phones off of the bedside tables and answered them. They were being called into the SHIELD base for a briefing about their next mission. Natasha was surprised that she was getting called in for a mission so soon after she'd been cleared to go back into the field. Quickly they got dressed and headed downstairs to the awaiting SHIELD-issued car. They slid into the backseat and before they knew it, they were heading off to base.

It wasn't long until they reached the SHIELD base. They were greeted by Maria Hill, who escorted them to the meeting room. When they reached the room, Fury was seated at the head of the conference table with several folders and papers in front of him.

"Ah, Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff, sit," Fury said, gesturing to the many empty chairs around the giant table. They took their seats next to one another and directed their attention to Fury. He rose from his seat and took a step towards them to place two manila folders in front of them. They grabbed the folders with their names on it and opened it to begin briefing themselves.

"Your next assignment," Fury said as he strode back to his chair at the head of the table. "Romanoff, I know you were just cleared by medical this morning, but this mission requires both of you. I wouldn't put any other team on this assignment."

"Pierre Moreau," Clint muttered as he skimmed over the details of their target. "Wait, doesn't he own a chain of casinos across the globe?"

"Yes," Fury confirmed. "Moreau is also known for trafficking women to employ them at his casinos."

"So, we just take him out?" Natasha asked as she closed her folder and set it down on the table.

"Not exactly," Fury said. "You're going to infiltrate Moreau's inner circle and destroy it from the inside. This needs to be stopped."

"Clearly," Clint said, not taking his eyes off of the folder in his hands. "Last month, he trafficked 350 women alone from Ukraine, Lithuania, Romania, and…" Clint trailed off before he swallowed nervously. He closed the folder before setting it on the table in front of him.

"You can say it, Clint," Natasha said. "Россия," she said, half-heartedly finishing his sentence. (_Russia_).

"You will brief yourselves with the information in the folders, along with your new identities," Fury said as he handed Clint and Natasha another folder for them to share. "Within 48 hours, you will return to base to be fully briefed before reporting to the hangar."

"So…Monaco," Natasha stated.

"Indeed, Agent Romanoff," Fury said in agreement. "Monaco."

* * *

**I'm really not sure if human trafficking is big in Monaco but that's what fiction is for. But human trafficking is definitely an issue. Anyways, I hope you guys are hooked already. Remember to read and review to let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! I have the next chapter here for you! I hope you like it and welcome to Monaco! Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha sat on Clint's couch in his apartment, rifling through the folder on their new identities. Clint was lying on the floor on his stomach as he leafed through the folder of mission details once again. The moment they arrived back at Avengers Tower, they got to work on memorizing every detail about the mission and their new identities. Every so often, they would quiz each other on the mission details or their new identities and then they would relapse into silence once again as they continued to study.

Natasha shifted uncomfortably on the couch as the pain in her back started up again. "Want me to quiz you again?" Natasha asked as she lied down on her back in hopes that the pain would subside.

"Hmm, yeah, sure," Clint grunted from the floor.

"Name?" Natasha questioned.

"Julien Bouchard," Clint answered promptly in a perfect French accent.

"Where do you live?"

"Paris."

"Occupation?"

"Small business owner."

"Reason for visiting Monaco?"

"Looking to expand my business and take my beautiful wife on a little vacation." At that point, Clint looked up from his folder and flashed a crooked smile at Natasha.

"Live it up, Barton," Natasha shot back. "This is as good as it gets in real life."

"Alright smart ass," Clint said as he pushed himself up and then walked over to snatch the folder out of Natasha's hands. "Why don't I quiz you?"

"Fine," Natasha snapped as she quickly sat up, the pain at the small of her back quickly shooting up and down her spine. "Bring it on, bird brain."

"Name?"

"Charlotte Bouchard."

"Where do you live?"

"Paris."

"Occupation?"

"Artist. I own a small gallery in Montmartre."

"How did we meet?"

"You were looking for some artwork for your office and you happened to waltz into my gallery," Natasha said matter-of-factly.

"Where did we get married?"

"Cannes."

"How long have we been married?"

"Six years."

"How did I propose?"

"Okay, will you stop?" Natasha snapped. "Most of these details are minor."

"They're still important," Clint retorted.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I know it," she snapped as she reached out for the folder as Clint pulled it out of her reach. "Just…I know it, okay?"

"Fine," Clint said before sitting down on the floor with his back against the couch. As if he could read her mind, he reached out to grab Natasha's folder with the mission details and handed it to her. She muttered a thank you before they both fell silent once again to prepare themselves for what was to come.

* * *

Clint and Natasha's Quinjet touched down at the SHIELD base in London at around five in the morning. Bleary eyed, the two assassins stumbled off of the Quinjet and into the base to change into their civilians' clothes before they headed to London's Heathrow Airport. They couldn't touch down in Monaco in a SHIELD-issued Quinjet; that would most definitely give them away. So they quickly changed into their civilians' clothes, grabbed their fake passports and IDs, and headed off to Heathrow Airport.

They didn't touch down in Monaco until almost noon later that day. Their flight had been unexpectedly delayed and it reminded Clint and Natasha as to why they hate flying commercial. But they made their way to baggage claim to collect their belongings before they headed out of the airport to find a cab. Luckily, a family of four was stepping out of a cab and emptying their belongings just as Clint and Natasha were making their way out of baggage claim so they pounced on the opportunity. Clint and Natasha smiled sweetly at the family of four before loading their own belongings into the trunk and then sliding into the backseat.

"_Où voulez-vous aller?_" the driver asked. (_Where do you want to go?_).

"_4 Avenue de la Madone_" Clint replied in perfect French. (_12 Madone Avenue_).

"_Bien sûr, monsieur_," the driver said. (_Of course, sir_). The driver put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. As soon as they pulled away from the airport, they saw the beautiful blue of the French Riviera waters. It had been a while since Natasha had been to Monaco and the last experience had been less than pleasant so she couldn't help but let her mouth hang open in awe.

"_C'est belle,_" Clint leaned over and whispered in Natasha's ear. (_It's beautiful_). Natasha smiled to herself. She wasn't sure if her smile was an act or not. But she knew that Clint was speaking the truth. He wasn't in character yet so of course he would comment on the beauty of Monaco.

"_Oui, c'est belle, mon chéri_," Natasha purred as she turned to Clint and kissed him. (_Yes, it's beautiful, my darling_). Unfortunately, Natasha was putting on an act right now but that didn't mean she was faking the kiss. She wouldn't get caught dead kissing in public. That was something she reserved solely for their private lives. But if they got to play husband and wife on this mission, then she got to kill two birds with one stone by kissing Clint, her boyfriend, and convincingly putting on an act.

"_D'accord_," the driver sighed as the cab came to a halt. "_4 Avenue de la Madone_." (_Okay, 4 Madone Avenue_). Clint and Natasha pulled away from each other to see that they had arrived at a palace-like hotel. SHIELD really knew how to treat them.

Clint thanked the driver and thrust a couple Euros at him to pay for the cab fare before climbing out of the car to help Natasha with the bags. They hoisted their bags onto their shoulders before heading into the lobby of the hotel. The hotel lobby was surprisingly vacant, most likely due to its patrons exploring the city or sun-bathing on the beach. They made their way over to the check-in desk and before they knew it, they were heading up to their suite.

They found that SHIELD had sprung for the most expensive suite the hotel offered. When they opened the door, they were greeted with a king sized bed that was decorated with gold bedding and accent pillows. Off to their left in a small room was a small sitting area with a loveseat and two arm chairs. There were several closets where they could store their belongings, most importantly, their weapons. At the opposite end of the room was a sliding glass door that led to a terrace that overlooked the pool area of the hotel.

After they were done surveying the suite, they started to unpack their belongings. When they were situated, they both collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. They were exhausted. They'd barely slept in the past 24 hours, but they needed to get to work. Pierre Moreau was somewhere in this hotel. He had been staying at the hotel for the past couple of months while contractors worked on his house. It was just a matter of finding him now.

"Want to split up?" Natasha suggested as she rolled off of the bed and headed over to the dresser to pull out a string bikini. "I'll take the pool area and you can head down to the casino?"

"No," Clint said firmly. "_I'll_ take the pool area and _you_ can head down to the casino."

Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint's immaturity. "For the love of God, stop being so protective," she snapped as she waved the string bikini in front of Clint's face. "You don't think I'll be jealous of all the beautiful women that will be around you in the casino?" She smirked as she walked away to the bathroom to slip into her bathing suit. She tied the strings and adjusted herself before wrapping a towel around her body.

When she reappeared in the room, Clint was dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and a pair of khaki pants. He was fiddling with an expensive watch on his wrist and Natasha put her hands on his wrist as if to tell him to stop. With her delicate fingers, she snapped the watch onto his wrist and adjusted his cuffed sleeves before looking up at him.

"Meet back here at five?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," Natasha said as she slid a pair of sunglasses onto her face. "Send me any texts or photos if you find anything."

"Same to you," Clint replied. They followed each other out of the room and filed into the elevator. The moment they reached the lobby, they branched off in different direction as they began their hunt for Pierre Moreau.

* * *

Natasha sighed as she lounged back in her chair to soak in the sun's rays. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the young man who took her drink order making his way back to her. She had desperately wanted something with vodka in it, but she knew that's not what Charlotte Bouchard would have ordered. So, she ordered a nice French wine instead.

"_Voici ton vin, mademoiselle_," the young man said as he set her drink down on the small table next to her. (_Here is your wine, miss_).

"_Merci, monsieur_," she answered with a smile. (_Thank you, sir_).

The young man walked away to tend to other patrons surrounding the pool, leaving Natasha alone with her wine. She reached out for the glass and brought the glass up to her lips. She took a sip and nearly spit it back into the glass, but she swallowed it anyways. It wasn't very ladylike to spit wine back into the glass.

She set the glass back onto the small table and relaxed in her lounge chair. The position she was in looked like she was asleep as she soaked up the rays but Natasha was wide awake as she searched through the pool patrons for any sign of Moreau. Everyone looked like normal tourists. They were all enjoying the late afternoon sun and the cool pool water.

Suddenly, Natasha felt a piece of fabric get tossed onto her legs, followed by the squeal of a child.

"_Jacques, non!_" a woman scolded as she reigned in the small child at the foot of Natasha's lounge chair. She looked up at Natasha with apologetic eyes. "_Je suis très, très desolée._" (_Jacques, no! I am very, very sorry._)

"_Non, non_," Natasha protested. "_C'est bon._" (_No, no. It's okay_.)

There was something about this blonde woman with the boy with sandy blonde hair that seemed very familiar to Natasha. She slipped into her fake persona and leaned forward with a curious smile.

"_Quel âge a-t-il?_" Natasha asked curiously. (_How old is he?_)

"_Ah, trois ans_," the woman replied with a smile. (_Ah, three years old._)

"_Ah ouais, ouais,_" Natasha answered enthusiastically. (_Ah, yeah, yeah._)

"_As-tu les enfants?_" the woman asked curiously. (_You have children?_)

"_Non, non_," Natasha said quickly. "_Peut-être, un jour…_" she trailed off. (_No, no, maybe, one day…_)

The blonde woman continued to wrangle the boy before pointing to the empty lounge chair next to Natasha. Natasha gestured to the chair as if to invite the woman to join her and she took a seat with the little boy in her lap. The boy squirmed in her grasp and she let him go as his tiny feet carried him to the edge of the pool.

"Jacques, be careful!" the woman scolded her son.

"_Tu parles anglais?_" Natasha asked, suddenly interested. (_You speak English?_)

"Ah, yes," the blonde woman replied.

"Me too," Natasha answered. "How interesting."

"Well, I am from the States," she said matter-of-factly.

"Oh how interesting," Natasha said as she swung her feet over the edge of her lounge chair. She rested her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin with her hands. "Where in the States are you from?"

"A small town in Wyoming," the woman said with a hearty chuckle.

"Wow, so do you live in France?" Natasha asked and the blonde woman nodded in response. "Talk about a Cinderella story. So how does a pretty girl from a small town in Wyoming come to live in France?"

The woman chuckled heartily again. "I was just on a trip with a couple friends and I just so happened to run into a charming young man. The rest is history."

"Wow," Natasha said. "That's quite a lifestyle change."

"Yeah, tell me about it," the woman breathed.

"So you're on vacation here?" Natasha asked, trying to get more information out of her.

"Kind of," the woman said as she shook her head. "My husband's brother is staying here while his house is under a remodeling project. We're visiting him for the weekend."

And that's when it suddenly hit her. This woman was so familiar because she was the wife of Pierre Moreau's brother, Christophe. Christophe Moreau just so happened to be Pierre Moreau's right hand man in this trafficking case. While Pierre would be working the limelight, Christophe would be shepherding the women into the country behind the scenes under Pierre's orders.

_Jackpot_, Natasha thought.

Suddenly, Jacques, the woman's three-year-old son, toddled over and started rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, I think it's time for a nap," the woman said as she lifted the small child into her arms. She stood up from the lounge chair and positioned the small child on her hip. Natasha stood up as well and flashed a smile at the woman.

"It was very nice talking to you," Natasha said.

"Yes, same to you," the woman said. "And, I'm sorry, I don't think you ever told me your name."

"Oh, yes, Charlotte, Charlotte Bouchard," Natasha said as she held her hand out for the woman to shake.

The woman grasped her hand firmly and pumped it up and down. "Jennifer Moreau," the blonde woman named Jennifer replied. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yes, yes," Natasha said. "If you need some time away from your little rugrat, you can come find me in the _Carré d'Or_ suite on the third floor."

"Ah thank you so much!" Jennifer answered. "I just might take you up on that offer."

"_Maman!_" the small child in Jennifer's arm whined as he tugged her shirt sleeve.

"_Ouais, ouais_," Jennifer replied wearily to her son. (_Yeah, yeah._) "Well, I will see you around."

"Same to you," Natasha said with a smile as Jennifer and her son walked away. Natasha waited for them to disappear through the gates that led to the garden before she sat back down in her lounge chair and furiously began to type a message to Clint.

* * *

Clint took another sip of his bourbon, nearly choking as the strong liquid slid down his throat. Clint much preferred beer but he figured Julien Bouchard would prefer something stronger and fancier. He was in Monaco and SHIELD would be picking up the tab after all. Why not drink something a little more expensive?

His felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he set down his glass of bourbon to retrieve it. He saw Natasha's name flash across the screen before the screen went to black. He unlocked his phone to find a message from her.

_Met Pierre Moreau's sister-in-law, wife of brother Christophe. They have a 3-year-old son. Told her to stop by our suite if she ever needed a break from her crazy life_, the message read.

How Natasha was always so lucky to run into these people, Clint wasn't quite sure. She even told him that the first catacombs she had visited in Rome were the ones Clint had been held hostage in. For someone who grew up in the most unfortunate environment, Natasha was an incredibly lucky girl.

Clint slipped his phone back into his pocket and picked up his glass of bourbon to take another swig of the harsh liquid. Clint had been in the casino for an hour and he had had no such luck. Not only did he not find anyone in relation to Pierre Moreau, but he had also lost the equivalent of 200 U.S. dollars at the blackjack tables. After losing that much money, he retired to the bar where he was now nursing his glass of bourbon.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone slip onto the stool next to him. He muttered something to the bartender before the bartender walked off to mix him a drink. Clint slightly turned his head to the side to find a small, balding man, cradling his head in his hands. He was finely dressed but his tie was loosened. He was a paunchy man and looked to be about in his mid-50's.

"Rough day, _monsieur_?" Clint inquired.

The man flinched before quickly composing himself. "Sorry," he said with a heavy French accent. "Yes, it has been a rough day."

"I know the feeling," Clint said as he took another sip of his bourbon. "I lost big at the tables."

The man chuckled, suddenly loosening up in Clint's presence. "Well then, my day isn't as bad as yours."

"Rough job?" Clint asked.

"Just a bit," the man said. The bartender suddenly appeared and placed the man's drink in front of him. The balding man thanked the bartender before taking a long swig from his glass. "Running a hotel isn't easy."

"You're the owner?" Clint asked.

"The manager," the man confirmed.

"Ah," Clint said. "Well, I hope my wife and I won't be too much of a burden for you during our stay."

"Ah, no, no," the man said. "It's quite alright. It's just hard to please Monaco's most famous casino owner. How do you make him happy when the man has everything in the world?"

"Ah," Clint said in understanding. "Monsieur Moreau."

"_Oui_," the man said. "Not that we aren't happy to be accommodating him and his friends and family, but why wouldn't you stay at your own hotel? Why wouldn't you go gamble in your own casino?"

_The human trafficking he deals with probably has something to do with that_, Clint thought to himself.

"Monsieur Moreau is asking us to shut down the casino tonight at seven so he and his family and friends can enjoy it to themselves," the man said.

"Well, you might as well do it," Clint said. "Don't want to anger your best customer."

"I guess so," the man sighed as he cradled his glass of liquor close to his chest. He stared into the glass before taking a long swig from it. He slammed the glass back onto the bar before turning to Clint. "I'm very sorry for the inconvenience this may cause you later in the day."

"Oh no, it's not a problem," Clint said. "My wife and I were planning on going out to dinner anyways."

"Ah, well, I hope you and your wife enjoy yourselves and if you need anything while you're here, you can ask for me at the front desk. Name's Alain," the man named Alain said as he held his hand out for Clint to shake.

Clint firmly grasped Alain's hand. "_Merci_ Alain," he said gratuitously. "Julien Bouchard."

"_Alors Monsieur Bouchard,_ _bonne journée_," Alain said as he nodded to Clint before walking out of the bar. (_Well Monsieur Bouchard, good day._)

Alain wasn't quite in Pierre Moreau's inner circle, but he had provided Clint with information that could just so happen to help them weasel their way in. Natasha had met Pierre Moreau's sister-in-law and there would be no doubt that she would be in the group of friends and family in the casino tonight. Now all Clint and Natasha needed to do was "accidentally" run into Jennifer Moreau, and everything could fall into place.

* * *

**Sorry for all the French. I've been learning it since I was in eighth grade (I'm a junior in college now and minoring in the language) so I know more of the grammar and vocab than Italian (which I've only been learning since the spring of last year). But I'll always have translations for you guys in parentheses. Don't worry! haha. But I hope you guys liked the chapter!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone! I know, it's taken me forever to get this next chapter to you. I've been working a lot since I'm home for winter break and I need the money. Also, you may have gotten an alert about chapter 2 being updated for this story again. I made a slight error in the last chapter about Natasha never having been to Monaco when indeed she has (in _Iron Man 2_). I've seen _Iron Man 2_ probably three times, and I don't own the movie on DVD so I had to look it up online. I honestly don't remember Natasha being in that scene but I had to fix that error in the last chapter because it would've bugged me. I just wanted to clear that up if there was any confusion. Anyways, enough of my rambling! Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint and Natasha arrived back at the suite within five minutes of each other. Natasha had returned first and she was powering up their SHIELD-issued laptop when Clint walked through the door. She looked up from the screen and smiled faintly at Clint before returning her attention back to the laptop.

"Find anything good?" Natasha asked as she typed away on the laptop.

"Sort of," Clint sighed as he flopped down on the bed. "Our charming hotel manager Alain says that Pierre Moreau is requesting to have the casino shut down at seven tonight so him and his close friends and family can enjoy it for themselves."

"Well, it's a shame we're neither close friends nor family," Natasha muttered as she clicked away using the touch pad.

"No, we're not," Clint agreed. "But _you_ met the wife of Christophe Moreau and you made it seem like you two got along pretty well."

"I invited her to our suite in case she needed to get away," Natasha said. "We can't just force her to come here."

"She'll come," Clint said confidently. "If not, we'll go to her."

Natasha furrowed her brow before letting it click. She turned around to face Clint, who had his arms folded over his face. "What do you have in mind?" she asked.

Clint pulled his arms away from his face and sat upright. "Let me see that laptop." Natasha carefully passed the laptop to Clint and he set it on his lap as he started to type away. As if he had forgotten Natasha was in the room, Clint began to mutter to himself as he typed away on the laptop.

"Clint, are you going to share with the class?" Natasha asked sarcastically.

Clint flinched before composing himself quickly. "Oh sorry," he apologized. "But, the hotel should be on some sort of system. We enter our rooms with a key card and they automatically lock themselves when the doors shut."

"Okay," Natasha said slowly. "I see where you're going with this, but we would need to see the hotel manifest to know which room their in."

"Done!" Clint announced as he turned the laptop around. Natasha saw a list of hotel patrons listed on the screen. Clint had successfully hacked into the hotel's systems to get a list of people currently staying in the building. Natasha noticed – listed at the top – was Christophe Moreau's name. It said that he and two others were staying in suite 413. If all of the floors were set up the same, Christophe Moreau and his family would be staying one floor directly above Clint and Natasha.

"Can you pull up a floor plan?" Natasha asked. Clint hummed his response before turning the laptop back around to face him and he started to type away again. Less than a minute later, he turned the laptop back around to show Natasha the floor plans of the hotel. All of the floors were exactly the same which meant that Christophe Moreau and his family were staying in the suite directly below Clint and Natasha's.

"Okay, so they're in the suite directly above ours," Natasha said. "Can you hack into the key card system so we can maybe see when they come and go?"

Clint nodded before quickly typing away on the laptop. Within a couple minutes, he had the key card system pulled up on the laptop screen. Each floor was color coded and when a door was opened, the doorways to the hotel rooms glowed green when they were unlocked from the outside until the doors are shut. If its occupant leaves the room, the door glows red until the door closes and locks.

As far as Natasha knew, at least Jennifer and her son Jacques were in the room. As for Christophe, he could be in the room too. If he wasn't, he could most likely be with his brother, but they didn't know where Pierre was at the moment so that put them at square one.

Suddenly, the computer pinged to signal that they'd received an email. Clint minimized the key card security program and clicked on the email application they'd set up in Julien and Charlotte Bouchard's name for the trip. In the inbox was a message addressed to the patrons of the hotel. Clint clicked on the message to open it and Natasha leaned over to read the screen over his shoulder.

_Dear Metropole Hotel patrons_, the message started. _Starting at seven p.m. this evening, the casino will be closed for a private event. I am sorry for the short notice and I hope it is not an inconvenience. The casino will be opened again to everyone at eight tomorrow morning. Once again, I am sorry for the inconvenience and if there is anything I can do for you, please let me know. Sincerely, Alain Delacroix, Metropole Hotel General Manager._

"Well there it is," Clint said when he finished reading the message.

"Mhmm," Natasha hummed as she pulled away from Clint. She slid off of the bed and quickly swept her hair up into a bun. "Think we should intercept them as they head to the casino?"

"Definitely," Clint agreed.

"What time is it?" Natasha asked.

Clint flipped his arm over and checked his watch. "Quarter to five."

Natasha nodded. "I'm going to take a shower and wash all of the sweat off of me. They probably won't be leaving their hotel room until a little bit before seven."

"Hmm, yeah," Clint agreed. He watched as Natasha, with her back turned to him, stripped herself of her bikini top and chucked it on the floor. Nervously, he cleared his throat. "Do you maybe want someone to shower with?"

"Way to be blunt, Barton," Natasha deadpanned.

"Conserves water."

"Since when are you a tree hugger?"

"Julien and Charlotte are on vacation in Monaco and they need to christen the hotel room," Clint said, ignoring her "tree hugger" remark.

She turned around and looked at him over her shoulder. Quickly, a smirk appeared on her face. "Role playing?" she asked playfully.

"We _are_ undercover," Clint said.

Without saying another word, Natasha slid her bikini bottoms down her legs, leaving her naked in front of Clint. With another smirk, she strode into the bathroom with Clint hot on her heels.

* * *

When Natasha's dress was zipped up and Clint's hair was coiffed to perfection, the two of them sat on the edge of the bed, watching the computer for any signs of Christophe and Jennifer Moreau leaving their hotel room. Around 6:30, the door to room 413 glowed red as the door was opened from the inside but quickly shut. Clint and Natasha watched with bated breaths to make sure that this wasn't a false alarm. Almost two minutes later, the door glowed red again as it was opened from the inside.

Without saying a word, Clint shoved the laptop closed and headed to the door. Natasha gathered up their key cards for their room and shoved them in her clutch before joining Clint by the door. They headed out of the room, letting the door swing shut on its own, and walked down the hall to the elevator at a quick pace. They arrived at the end of the hall just as the elevator's doors were closing and Clint calmly yelled out in French to hold the elevator.

Fortunately, a hand darted out in between the elevator doors and the doors paused before sliding open. Out of breath, Clint and Natasha reached the elevator. They stepped in front of the elevator to come face-to-face with Christophe and Jennifer Moreau and several other hotel patrons.

"Oh, hello!" Jennifer greeted Natasha politely.

"Lovely to see you again," Natasha said with a smile as she stepped forward onto the elevator. She felt Clint's presence behind her as they squeezed into the already crowded elevator. They stood next to each other with their shoulders touching as they watched the elevator doors slide shut.

"Is this your husband?" Natasha heard Jennifer ask.

Carefully, Natasha turned around to face Jennifer. "Ah yes, it is," Natasha said. She tapped Clint on the arm and he turned around as if on cue. He flashed a smile at Jennifer and she reciprocated the gesture. "This is my husband, Julien," Natasha said. "Julien, this is the lovely Jennifer I was telling you about."

Politely, Clint held out his hand and Jennifer firmly gripped it to shake it. "It is lovely to meet you," she said with a smile.

"Same to you," Clint said with a smile.

Jennifer nodded before shaking her head quickly. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so impolite!" she exclaimed as she turned to her husband. "This is my husband, Christophe. Darling, this is Charlotte and Julien."

Christophe held out his hand and Clint was the first to grasp it for a handshake. Clint locked eyes with Christophe and held his gaze. When they let go of one another's hands, Christophe turned to Natasha. Natasha flashed a tiny smile to him before offering up her hand for a shake. Instead, Christophe raised Natasha's hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.

"Lovely to meet you," Christophe drawled with a smirked.

Clint had to admit that he didn't like Christophe kissing Natasha's hand. He knew that this was Natasha's thing. She let guys hit on her, no matter how sleazy they were. It didn't help that this guy was behind a huge human trafficking service. But he had to let it go.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clint noticed something interesting. As Christophe kissed the back of Natasha's hand, he noticed Jennifer grow incredibly tense and rigid. Any wife would be incredibly nervous over their husband flirting with another girl – and Christophe was definitely flirting – but Jennifer's body language gave away that there was something more to it.

"Oh stop," Natasha said as she waved her free hand.

"Yes, darling," Jennifer chimed in. "Don't embarrass her."

Christophe retracted his hand away from Natasha just as the elevator pinged to signal that it had reached the lobby. The doors slid open and the elevator's passengers began to file out one by one. Clint and Natasha paused outside of the elevator to politely wait for Christophe and Jennifer, and when they caught up with one another, they fell in step together as they made their way across the lobby.

"Out to dinner?" Jennifer asked curiously, back to her chipper and happy self.

"Yes, Julien's taking me to a lovely seaside café," Natasha said as she touched Clint's arm affectionately.

"Oh, that's nice," Jennifer said.

"What are your plans for tonight?" Natasha asked innocently, even though she already knew the answer.

"Oh…" Jennifer trailed off. "We're just going…to the casino." She jammed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the casino.

"Ah," Clint said in fake understanding. "So you're the ones who ruined our night."

"Oh no, no, no," Jennifer said quickly.

Clint chuckled. "No, no, it's quite alright. We already had these reservations before the casino got shut down."

"I'm so sorry," Jennifer muttered under her breath.

"My brother is a very private person," Christophe interjected. "And he likes to get his way."

"He sounds very…persuasive," Natasha said.

Christophe chuckled. "Yes, he can be," he said, then turned to Jennifer. "We should head to the casino. Pierre will be wondering where we are."

"Yes, yes," Jennifer agreed before turning back to Clint and Natasha. "We should let you go. You have a reservation to make."

The two couples bid adieu to one another and went their separate ways. Clint and Natasha kept their eyes trained forward until they were close to the entrance to the hotel. They quickly glanced over their shoulders to see Pierre Moreau greeting his brother and sister-in-law at the entrance to the casino. Indiscreetly, Natasha let her phone slip from her dress sleeve so she could snap a picture of the trio. She knew it would be upside down but when they uploaded it to the SHIELD database later on, they'd be able to format it however they pleased.

When Natasha and Clint stepped outside into the cool French Riviera nighttime air, they started heading down the sidewalk. They didn't have a reservation at some seaside café, mostly because that had been a lie intended for Christophe and Jennifer. They couldn't go back into the hotel, not when the Moreaus were right in the casino and could leave anytime they pleased. It would seem suspicious, so they kept walking down the sidewalk.

"Is the picture decent?" Clint asked once they were far from the hotel.

Natasha pulled her phone out from her dress sleeve and started skimming through the pictures. When she found the picture of the Moreaus, she shrugged before turning the phone to Clint. It was a bit fuzzy and off centered but other than that, it wasn't a bad snapshot.

"Hmm, not bad," he said.

"Yeah," Natasha agreed as she slipped her phone up her dress sleeve in case she needed it later on. "Hey, did you notice Jennifer when Christophe kissed my hand? She tensed up."

"Yeah, and it wasn't just a jealous wife sort of thing," Clint said. "There's something more to it."

Natasha nodded as they continued down the sidewalk. After a while, they crossed the street and headed onto the sandy shores of Monaco. There was a slight breeze as the waves crashed in the distance. Seagulls squawked in the distance as the smell of sea water wafted through the air.

"Hey, Jennifer didn't happen to tell you where she was from, did she?" Clint asked suddenly, breaking the silence between the two of them.

"She did, actually," Natasha said. "She said she's from a small town in Wyoming."

Clint furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Why do I get the feeling that you don't quite buy that story?" Natasha mused.

"Because I don't," Clint said before pulling his phone from his pocket. He logged into the SHIELD database and pulled up the mission file. He quickly skimmed the details before opening a separate file.

"Clint, what are you doing?" Natasha asked as she leaned over and tried to get a glimpse of Clint's phone screen.

"Shhh," he hushed Natasha as he scrolled through the file. Natasha rolled her eyes as she turned away from Clint and plopped down in the sand to stare out at the crashing waves. Robotically, Clint followed her gesture as he sat down next to her in the sand, his eyes never leaving his phone's screen.

It felt like endless silence between them as Natasha stretched her legs out and enjoyed the cool sea breeze. She stretched her arms out behind her and rested her hands in the sand. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as the breeze ripped through her red locks.

It wasn't much later when Clint tapped her on the shoulder to garner her attention. She pulled her head up and opened her eyes to see a sketchy picture of Jennifer Moreau on Clint's phone. Only it wasn't Jennifer Moreau, but a beautiful blonde by the name of Olia Abramovich.

Natasha's jaw dropped as she snatched the phone from Clint. She stared at the screen as she skimmed the details. Natasha knew what file Clint had been looking through and she didn't want to believe it. "No," she gasped in denial when she looked up at Clint from looking at the file of the people trafficked in this case.

"Yes," Clint said with a sigh

Natasha shook her head in denial. Though they didn't know the full details, one thing was certain. Christophe Moreau trafficked his wife from Russia.

* * *

**Ooooooh, looks like we've got a serious situation on our hands! Jennifer Moreau isn't really from the States but from Russia. And she was trafficked by her husband! Think there's WAY more to this? Of course there is! Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone! I'm really sorry that these updates are coming up really slow. My spring semester starts tomorrow so updates will still be a little slow. I'll explain more after this chapter, so I'll stop rambling and let you read. Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint and Natasha read through the profile of Olia Abramovich, otherwise known to them as Jennifer Moreau. According to the file, Olia was abandoned by her mother at the age of 14 to move to the States with her wealthy American boyfriend. Ironically, Olia's mother and her wealthy American boyfriend went to live in Wyoming, so that's how Jennifer had developed her backstory.

For two years, Olia lived by herself in the apartment she previously shared with her mother. After about a week of fending for herself with the money her mother left her, she tried to find a job but many employers turned her away at the door. Helpless and desperate, she started to sell her body for money in order to survive.

One night out on the town when she was sixteen, Olia met a mysterious man who promised her a better life in France. This man just so happened to be Christophe Moreau, who was working under the orders of his brother. Olia was charmed and accepted Christophe's offer. But things soon took a turn for the worse when Christophe took a liking to Olia. He confiscated all of her belongings – IDs, passports, and the like – before bringing her into France. It was almost implied that Christophe had his way with her. She couldn't go to the police because they would send her back to Russia, which is something she did not want to do. So, as it seemed, Olia put up with Christophe's antics until he gave her a new identity and a new life.

As Natasha finished reading Olia's profile, she shook her head in disbelief. "Fucking sick man," she growled.

"How does SHIELD not tell us these things?" Clint said as he read over Olia's profile one more time. "I mean, it blatantly says that she met him. How does SHIELD not know that Jennifer Moreau and Olia Abramovich are the same person?"

"Maybe they didn't," Natasha suggested. "Olia's picture is pretty sketchy and blurry. And with the exception of a couple photos that SHIELD had managed to obtain, Christophe mostly keeps Jennifer – or Olia, I guess – out of the public eye."

"She seems happy now, I guess," Clint mumbled.

Natasha tilted her head to the side. "Really Clint? She seems happy?" she asked sarcastically. "She was pretty much raped by Christophe for God knows how long and how much do you want to bet that their son is a consequence of rape?"

"Tasha, don't bring him into this," Clint whined.

"He's already in this!" Natasha exclaimed. "He's part of their family!"

Clint sighed as he hung his head. "So what do we do? How do we approach this?"

Natasha shook her head, unsure of what to do. Not only was there a three-year-old boy involved, but Jennifer had been trafficked, forced into this life against her will. And now, she couldn't get out no matter how hard she tried.

"We've got to take them down," Natasha growled. "This is wrong. She didn't choose this life."

"Sound familiar?" Clint inquired.

Natasha turned to Clint before tilting her head to the side. "Clint, it's not the same."

"Nat, it's _exactly _the same," he said as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned to his partner. "You both had your lives taken from you against your will and both of you had to adapt to a new life that you didn't want."

"Yeah, but you came and gave me a second chance to live the life that I wanted," Natasha said.

"Maybe that's what we're here for then," Clint said with a shrug of his shoulders. "We're here to give her a choice of the life that she deserves."

Maybe Clint was right. Maybe this was what SHIELD had really sent them here for. Not only did they have to take down Pierre and Christophe, but they had to give the people that had been trafficked from other countries another chance at a better life. They were there to give them a second chance. They were there to make a different call.

* * *

It was the following evening when Clint and Natasha headed to Pierre Moreau's hotel and casino to scope it out. Natasha was dressed in a green satin curve-hugging dress while Clint was dapperly dressed in an all black suit. They waltzed right through the front doors of the hotel and marched through the lobby to the casino with determination.

When they entered the casino, they scanned the room for the bar and made a bee-line for it to get some drinks. They sidled up to the bar and ordered their drinks before heading to the tables to play some blackjack. They scoped out the casino to the find the best table to wreak havoc on and spotted a nice table in the center of the casino. Clint led the way through the crowd to the table, his fingers laced together with Natasha's loosely.

When they reached the table Clint had chosen, he waited for the most recent game to be over until he sat down at the table. He pulled a wad of cash out of his jacket and slid it across the table to the dealer. The dealer smirked at Clint and then exchanged the money for gambling chips.

"Now, darling, remember, it's just a game," Natasha said from behind Clint as she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, love," Clint said as he arranged his gambling chips to his liking. "I've got a good feeling about tonight."

Natasha rolled her eyes as she brought her glass to her lips. She was only putting on an act because Natasha knew exactly what Clint was going to do. While Clint would lose the first couple hands, it was only a strategy so he could count cards to gain the upper hand against the dealer. Clint had learned the skill when he was young and worked in the circus.

Tonight, this skill would prove to be quite useful. Though counting cards wasn't exactly illegal at casinos, it is frowned upon and Clint hoped to get the attention to Pierre Moreau tonight. They'd received information from SHIELD that Pierre would be at his own establishment this evening and if Clint could get his attention by winning big by cheating, then they would be right where they wanted to be.

As per usual, Clint lost the first few hands before starting to gain momentum. When he started betting a little more than usual on his hands, Natasha knew he was getting to the point in the deck when he could keep track of the cards. On one particular hand, Clint got 21 and he bet all of his gambling chips, which gave away his hand to the dealer and the other players. But just like Clint calculated, he knew he'd beat the dealer. Unfortunately for the dealer, Clint cleaned him out and the game had to cease so he could get more gambling chips.

"Darling, I think it's about time you pull out," Natasha said. She glanced up at the camera in the ceiling and it took every ounce of energy in her body not to smirk right at it. Instead, she shot a concerned look up at the camera before looking back at Clint.

"No need to worry," Clint said as he reached up to his shoulder to rest his hand on top of Natasha's. "Besides, you never leave a table when you're on a streak such as this one."

Natasha pulled away from Clint just in time to see a group of burly men making their way across the casino. Natasha knew they were headed their way and she squeezed Clint's shoulder gently to let him know. Clint kept his head down, focusing on the game in front of him. He knew exactly why Natasha was squeezing his shoulder. He didn't need to look up to know why.

"Excuse me, _monsieur_," Clint heard a deep voice from the other side of the table. Clint raised his head to see a group of three burly men standing behind the dealer. One of the men was whispering in the dealer's ear, who was listening intently. The other two were staring down Clint with intensity.

"Yes? How may I help you?" Clint asked as he set down one of the gambling chips he had been twirling between his fingers.

"We're so sorry to interrupt but if you would please come with us, it would be very much appreciated," the man in the center said.

"Is there a problem?" Clint asked.

"Of sorts," the man to the left piped up.

Clint nodded before gathering up his gambling chips and his drink. He bid his fellow players adieu and thanked the dealer before grabbing Natasha's hand to lead her through the crowd. The three men cleared the way for them before they reached a door on the outskirts of the casino. They pushed it open and gestured to allow Clint and Natasha to step through. They stepped inside to see a long, white hallway. They paused just inside the doorway to the let the trio of men through the lead the way. They gestured silently to let Clint and Natasha to know they should follow them and they complied.

As they headed down the long, white hallway, Natasha's heels clacked against the tiled floor eerily. The group of five walked in silence until they reached a door at the end of the hallway. One of the men pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door before pushing it open. He turned to Clint and Natasha and then gestured towards the room to let them know they should step inside.

Clint stepped inside first, determined to take any kind of hit or bullet before Natasha did. But when he stepped inside, he noticed Pierre Moreau seated behind a large desk, sans any type of weapon. He stepped aside to let Natasha through. She stepped further into the room and her eyes immediately made a quick sweep of the room. It seemed innocent. A usual office for a casino, but who knew what was below the surface.

The door slammed shut behind them and Natasha feigned a frightened jump. They heard the clicking as the door was locked from the outside, confining Natasha and Clint to the office with Pierre Moreau. If this got out of hand, it was lucky that Natasha had two guns strapped to her thighs and Clint had a collapsible and portable bow with some arrows tucked inside his jacket.

Pierre Moreau offered them a warm smile before gesturing to the two seats in front of his desk. "Please, sit," he ordered.

Clint took a step forward and Natasha did the same. They lowered themselves into the plush red chairs but sat on the edge in case they needed to duck at a moment's notice. Clint and Natasha glanced at each other before returning their attention to Pierre Moreau, who was grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Well, these are some interesting circumstances that we're meeting upon," Pierre drawled as he leaned back in his chair.

"I'm sorry, but why exactly are we here, _monsieur_?" Clint questioned innocently, even though he definitely knew why they were there.

"It seems that we have quite a dilemma," Pierre said. "You were cleaning out my casino quite nicely just a few minutes ago."

Clint shrugged his shoulders. "Got lucky, I guess."

"So it seems," Pierre said with a smug grin. "Or, you just so happened to be counting cards."

Clint glanced over at Natasha – who had her "worried wife" look on her face – before turning back to Pierre with a smirk on his face. "Oh, is that what that's called?" Clint asked sarcastically. Long gone was his innocent façade and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Natasha wearing a smirk that rivaled his.

"Yes, _monsieur_. That is what it's called," Pierre answered calmly. He didn't seem the least bit bothered that Clint had just revealed himself to be an enemy. Pierre rose from his chair as he strode around the front of his desk. He leaned up against the desk and rested his hands on either side of him on the edge of the desk. "Now, Monaco does not have a law against card counting, but it is, what you may say, frowned upon.

"However, I do like you," Pierre continued. Both Natasha and Clint were taken aback by this revelation. "You could be quite handy. What's your name, _monsieur_?"

"Julien, Julien Bouchard," Clint answered.

"And this must be your girlfriend? Fiancée? Wife?" Pierre questioned, turning to Natasha.

"Wife," she said affirmatively. "Charlotte."

"Charmed, _madame_," Pierre said with a crooked grin.

"Likewise," Natasha shot back.

"So," Pierre said as he turned his attention back to Clint. "Like I said, I like you. You could be an asset to my business. What is it that you do for yourself, Julien?"

"I'm a small business owner in Paris," Clint said matter-of-factly. "But I'm looking to expand."

"Ah, as am I!" Pierre exclaimed as he pushed off from the desk and strode around the back to sit down in his plush, comfortable chair again. "I think you could be a great asset to my business."

Natasha stared down Pierre as he kept his eyes trained on Clint. Natasha could see where this was going and she didn't like it. She already hated the man for trafficking women from different countries. Trying to rope Clint into his illegal business made her hate the man even more. Then again, SHIELD wanted them to do everything and anything to take down this man. They were required to infiltrate his close circle of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, and if they had to do something that was illegal and they were completely against, then so be it. They had to do it.

Pierre leaned forward in his chair, folding arms on top of one another on top of the desk. "How would you like to make a little extra money, _Monsieur Bouchard_?" Pierre inquired.

"Depends," Clint pondered. "Doing what?"

"Conducting…inventory, of sorts," Pierre said. "You seem like the right man for the job."

Clint pondered the offer before turning towards Natasha. Deep down, Clint knew Natasha didn't like this. It was too much like what had happened to her and she wanted to take down this bastard and make sure he suffered too. But on the exterior was the façade of a supportive wife. With a nod, Natasha gave Clint permission to accept the offer.

Turning back to Pierre, Clint gave the man a smug smirk. "You've got a deal."

* * *

**By the way, sorry if this update kind of sucks haha. I've been trying to work on it since I updated the last chapter but I was busy with work, then I moved back to school, and now the spring semester starts tomorrow. Which reminds me...I'm going to try to do updates on the weekends and then as the semester goes on, they'll become less frequent. HOWEVER, if I get this one internship I applied for, updates could be WAY less frequent than intended. But I haven't gotten an interview set up yet (and hopefully the woman in charge of the internship will email me back soon because I'm going crazy without a reply) so as of right now, I'm not participating in an internship. But keep your fingers crossed for me because I really want this internship! If I don't update as frequently as the weekends, you are free to drop me a message to my inbox about my stories or just to say hi. I do check the site every day. I just can't always write every day haha.**

**Anyways, rambling's done. Thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they help motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter for you guys. It may be inappropriate so just a fair warning that human sex trafficking is mentioned a lot during this chapter. Human sex trafficking isn't a happy subject so just remember that as you read this chapter. Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha didn't like this arrangement. She didn't like it one bit. But for the sake of the mission, she had to be okay with it. On the bright side, Clint would be able to figure out how the Moreaus are able to get the women into the country and where exactly they place them within the hotel to work. In the meantime, Natasha had to sit tight and put on her fake supportive wife façade.

The day that Clint was expected to start "inventory" with the Moreaus, Natasha sat on their hotel bed, sulking, as she watched him flit back and forth as he got ready. He wanted to take down Pierre Moreau just as much as Natasha wanted to so he knew he had to do this, no matter how much it went against his own morals. He had to remind himself that it would be worth it in the end.

"I don't like this. In fact, I hate it," Natasha grumbled with her arms folded across her chest. She was sitting in the center of the king sized bed as she watched Clint pull on his watch and button up his dress shirt.

"I know, Nat," Clint said as he smoothed out his shirt and then turned around to face her. She was pouting like a five-year-old in time out and Clint couldn't help but smile to himself.

"Why are you smiling?" Natasha snapped.

"You're really cute right now," Clint said matter-of-factly.

"Do you want to lose a limb?" she shot back.

Clint chuckled as he crossed the room and climbed on the bed. He crawled across the bed and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Are you mad that I'm going to have all the fun?" Clint asked playfully.

"Maybe," she mumbled, refusing to meet Clint's gaze.

"You are, aren't you?" Clint asked.

"I want to take this bastard down too, you know," Natasha whined.

Clint chuckled again as he backed off of the bed to finish getting ready. He sat down on the edge of the bed to slip his feet into his shoes. As he started to lace his shoes up, he could feel Natasha glaring into his back. "Nat," he said, keeping his eyes trained on the laces of his shoes. "You're still a big part of this." There was silence but he could practically feel her eyes burning a hole into his shirt. "You need to win over Jennifer," Clint said as he finished tying his shoes and then turned around to face Natasha. "Or Olia, whatever you want to call her. She needs our trust. Try to become friends with her. If you become friends with her, you'll be in the loop too."

Natasha dropped her arms from across her chest and rolled her eyes at Clint. She got onto her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed to give Clint a quick kiss before dropping her chin to his shoulder.

"Be careful," she whispered in his ear.

"Always am," he shot back as he stood up from the edge of the bed. He swiped his phone and the room key off of the dresser as he headed out of the room.

"Liar," Natasha said playfully just as Clint had set his hand on the door handle. He glanced over his shoulder and smirked at his partner before slipping out of the room to report for duty.

* * *

Clint arrived at Pierre Moreau's hotel and casino ten minutes before he was due to meet with Pierre. As instructed, he reported to the front desk and informed the general manager that he was at the hotel to meet Pierre. The general manager nodded in understanding before picking up the phone to call Pierre for confirmation. After a short exchange, the general manager returned the phone to its proper place before informing Clint that someone would be coming to escort him back to Pierre's office. Clint nodded and thanked the manager as he walked away to take a seat in one of the comfortable chaise lounges in the lobby.

It was a couple minutes later when one of the burly security guards from the other night appeared in the lobby to escort Clint back to Pierre's office. Clint rose from his chair and silently followed the burly security guard. They took a different route to Pierre's office. Instead of going through the door in the casino, they headed down a luxurious hallway until they reached the end. The burly security guard scanned a key card and the light on the scan pad turned green to grant them access. The security guard opened the door and gestured to let Clint go first.

Once inside, Clint noticed the blinding white hallway he was familiar with from the last visit. The burly security guard brushed past him and headed down the hall without a word to Clint. Rushing to catch up with him, Clint followed him down the hall until they reached Pierre's office. The security guard knocked three times before they heard a faint response from Pierre to welcome them inside.

The security guard opened the door and stepped aside to let Clint in. Clint nodded to the security guard as thanks for escorting him to his job and the security guard just stared back with a blank expression. Shaking his head, Clint stepped into the luxurious office, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Ah Monsieur Bouchard, any troubles or problems on your way here?" Pierre said, keeping his gaze fixated on the spreadsheet in front of him.

"No problems," Clint said as he took a hesitant step forward.

Pierre looked up from his paper and offered up a faint smile to Clint. "Please, sit," Pierre said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. Clint nodded and stepped forward to take a seat just as Pierre rose from his chair behind his desk. "Can I offer you anything to drink?" Pierre questioned as he headed to the small bar in the corner of the office.

"No, I'm okay," Clint said, even though he could really go for a beer at the moment.

"Suit yourself," Pierre said as he poured himself a glass of brandy. He took a sip before heading back to his desk and sitting down in front of the assortment of paperwork. "So, I'm assuming since you declined my offer for a drink that you're ready to get to work."

"_Oui, monsieur_," Clint answered affirmatively with a nod. (_Yes, sir._)

"Well, very determined, I see," Pierre said as he set his glass of brandy on his desk. He folded his arms one on top of the other and leaned forward. "I guess I should inform you on your task."

"It would be most appreciated, _monsieur_," Clint said.

Pierre nodded before leaning all the way back so that his back was against his chair. He folded his hands in his lap as he stared Clint down. "I'm trusting you, Monsieur Bouchard, because what I am asking you to do is strictly illegal."

"I'm all ears, Monsieur Moreau."

"Please," Pierre interrupted. "Pierre is fine. None of that Monsiuer Moreau shit. We're colleagues. We're roughly the same age. From here on out, I am Pierre to you and you are Julien to me."

"Understood," Clint said, though he couldn't quite call him Pierre. He knew calling him by his first name would leave a bad taste in his mouth so he was just going to keep his answers simple from here on out.

"Fantastic," Pierre stated. "Now, like I said, what you will be dealing with is strictly illegal. You may not be dealing with it directly, but you will know enough information."

"And what exactly is that Mons – Pierre?" Clint inquired, catching himself before he called him Monsieur Moreau again.

Pierre leaned forward again, resting his arm one on top of the other on the desktop. "Human trafficking," Pierre whispered.

Clint already knew the answer but he had to play the part of a shocked man. He let his jaw drop and he watched the bemused expression appear on Pierre's face. "Wow," was all Clint managed to muster up. Hearing it come straight from Pierre's mouth made it all the more shocking.

"How do you think I have so much money?" Pierre mused as he held his hands out at his sides as if to show off his luxurious office as a means of explaining. "I traffic these people from Russia, Ukraine, Georgia. You name it, I've probably taken them from there. I give them shit pay, pay my bills and taxes, and then keep the rest for myself."

It took every ounce of energy in Clint's body to restrain himself from leaping over the desk and strangling Pierre right then and there. This was a sick man and he got extreme joy out of making others suffer.

"I traffic mostly women," Pierre continued. "Some work as maids or waitresses but…" he trailed off. Clint was nervous to find out what he really did with these women. He was already sick to his stomach thinking about it. "I employ most them as strippers and call girls."

Clint felt like he was going to be sick. Even though Natasha hadn't been trafficked, she'd been forced by the Red Room to destroy people through seduction and sex. This was too much of a reminder of Natasha's former life, the one he'd saved her from, which gave Clint all the more motivation to take this sick bastard down.

Mustering up the courage to respond, Clint took a deep breath as he looked around the office in bewilderment. "I'm confused. This is a hotel and casino. Where exactly are these women stripping and having sexual relations with men?"

"And some women," Pierre said. "I don't judge." He shot Clint a mischievous smile that nearly made Clint toss his cookies before continuing. "Julien, I built this hotel and casino. Did you really think I wouldn't create some secret passageways to conduct illegal operations? These walls have more secrets than you'd believe!"

Clint indiscreetly bit the inside of his mouth to keep from doing anything brash. For Natasha's sake, he wanted to put a gun to this man's head and pull the trigger because if Clint didn't do it, he knew Natasha would. But he knew that if he did that, he would blow his cover and the whole mission would be compromised. There was no telling what else this man was capable of. Instead, Clint just nodded his head quietly and faintly smirked to let Pierre know that he was on his side.

"So," Pierre continued as he gathered up the papers on his desk and arranged them into a neat pile. "My brother, whom I believe you've already met, is bringing in a new group of women. We need to get rid of the old ones and welcome in the new ones." Pierre handed the pile of papers to Clint, who reached out and graciously took the small pile into his own hands. "I need you to keep an inventory who is and isn't employed at this establishment. After we've rid the staff of those who aren't competent to work here anymore, we will bring in the new women and you will keep an organized inventory of those that do work here. _Comprend_?" (_Understand_?)

Too sick to his stomach, Clint simply nodded his head. The way that he talked about these people as if they were disposable items made Clint want to throw up. But he needed to do this. He'd done things he didn't want to do during missions in the past and this was another one of those instances. He had to do this for the sake of the mission. After this, Clint would make sure that he and Natasha never got assigned another mission such as this one ever again.

"Perfect!" Pierre exclaimed as he slammed his hands on the desktop. He snatched his glass of brandy and downed the remaining liquid in one gulp. He slammed the glass onto the desk before standing up from his chair and rounding the desk to head to the door. Opening the door, he poked his head out into the hall as he conversed to someone in French. Clint listened intently as he absorbed the conversation. When it was finished, Pierre walked back into the office with a young brunette woman in tow. Pierre gestured to the plush red chair next to Clint and the woman nervously took a seat. She rested her hands in her lap and nervously picked at her cuticles. She looked worn out, as if she hadn't slept in years.

"Okay Julien, this is Caroline, formerly known as Lilya," Pierre announced. "If you would so kindly cross her name off of the inventory, that would be great."

Clint nodded as he swallowed hard. He quickly searched through the list of names before finding the name "Lilya/Caroline." He grabbed a pen from the desk and crossed off the name. He lifted his head and nodded to Pierre to let him know she was no longer staffed at the hotel and casino. Pierre gave Clint a devilish grin before turning to Caroline/Lilya to inform her in Russian the devastating news that she was no longer employed.

Clint watched as the girl's face crumpled up and began to cry. She begged and pleaded in Russian to stay but Pierre just sat in his plush red office chair looking bored. When he'd heard enough of the girl's pleas, he called out to his security guard to drag the girl out of the room, kicking and screaming.

And that's the way it went for the next 77 women on the list.

* * *

Natasha stared at the laptop as she waited for some sort of signal that Jennifer would be leaving her hotel room. Clint had been gone for two hours and she still hadn't found something to entertain herself. As far as Natasha knew, Jennifer hadn't left her hotel room. It had been early when Clint left to meet Pierre so there was no chance that Jennifer would have been up that early, even with a three-year-old son.

Suddenly, the door to Jennifer's hotel room glowed red. Natasha jumped from the bed, slamming the laptop shut, and swiped her key card off of the dresser and her purse from the floor as she rushed out the door. She sprinted down the hallway and quickly jammed her finger on the button to call the elevator. Instantly, the elevator pinged and the doors slid open to reveal Jennifer standing in the middle of the carriage.

"Oh hello!" she said enthusiastically.

"Hello Jennifer," Natasha said breathlessly as she stepped onto the elevator. She checked the panel of buttons to make sure the lobby button was pressed and then relaxed against the wall of the elevator as the doors slid shut.

"In a hurry?" Jennifer questioned.

"Yes!" Natasha exclaimed. "I forgot about an appointment I have at the Chanel boutique. I'm terribly late."

"How funny," Jennifer said. "I was going to head there as well!"

_Wow, what a weird coincidence_, Natasha thought sincerely. "Oh how ironic!" Natasha exclaimed enthusiastically. "Maybe you can help me out. I'm looking for a nice dress to wear to dinner with Julien."

"Oh, I'd be happy to help!" Jennifer exclaimed with a grin across her face. Natasha returned the gesture as she indiscreetly pulled her phone out and quickly hacked into the Chanel boutique's database to set up a private appointment. They'd be unprepared, which would call for a nice little hissy fit on Natasha's part, but at least Jennifer would know she wasn't lying.

The elevator reached the lobby and the two women stepped off of the elevator one after the other. They followed each other through the lobby and out the main doors. The doorman offered to get the women a cab but they politely declined due to the boutique being right around the corner.

As the two women headed down the street, a light breeze picked up as the seagulls squawked from overhead. Jennifer pulled out a pair of sunglasses from her purse and slid them onto her face.

"Is Jacques with his father today?" Natasha asked, in hopes of starting a conversation.

"No, Christophe is away on business for the day. Jacques is with the nanny," Jennifer explained. Natasha nodded in understanding. "I heard Julien is working with Pierre," Jennifer added.

"Yes. It was quite unexpected but we're happy to help Pierre's business in any way we can," Natasha said, bile rising in her throat just thinking about what Clint might be involved with at the moment.

"Well, Pierre will pay him handsomely. He takes good care of his employees," Jennifer said.

_And you too, apparently_, Natasha thought.

They arrived at the Chanel boutique and all conversation ceased as they stepped into the store. They were greeted by the boutique employees and Natasha immediately announced that she had an appointment. The employees shot her a bewildered look because they were unprepared for her arrival. Natasha demanded they check their schedule and one of the employees started to furiously tap away on her iPad. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red when she realized their mistake and apologized to Natasha. Natasha rolled her eyes at the employees as they started to scatter to prepare the boutique for Natasha's appointment. One of the women rushed to the doors and locked them and then hung a sign to inform customers they were closed for a private appointment.

"So unprofessional," Natasha scoffed.

"Can't find good help these days," Jennifer added.

"We are so very sorry," one of the employees apologized. "I have contacted headquarters and they have informed me that anything you purchase today will be given a 40% off discount."

"Thank you," Natasha said politely as she mustered up a smile. "I appreciate it."

The boutique employee stepped away from Natasha and she disappeared to the backroom with the rest of her co-workers to let Natasha and Jennifer shop. She let them know where they would be if they needed anything before completely disappearing from the room.

"Wow," Jennifer said. "You have quite an effect on people."

"Well, you need to be able to have a convincing look if you want to make a sale," Natasha said matter-of-factly as she searched through a rack of sparkly dresses.

"What exactly do you do?" Jennifer asked as she picked up a black ballet flat and examined it.

Natasha pulled a gold dress from the rack and turned it around to look at the back. Impressed with it, she draped it over her forearm to try on later. "I run an art gallery in Montmartre," Natasha said as she searched through the rack for anything else of interest.

Jennifer hummed in understanding. "That sounds like fun," she said.

"So what is Christophe working on today? If you don't mind me asking," Natasha said.

"Oh, they're recruiting new employees," Jennifer said.

_More like trafficking new employees_, Natasha scoffed in her head.

"Short staffed?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah," Jennifer said. "This always happens this time of year. Employees want to go on vacation and they simply can't keep up with the amount of tourists that come in. They always hire more employees at this time of year."

"Hmm, interesting," Natasha said. "Well, I hope he's not bored. I would be on a day like this. It's so beautiful out for a nice stroll and some shopping."

"Exactly!" Jennifer agreed.

Natasha faked a laugh as silence fell between them. They continued to shop until they'd both gathered up enough items to max out a credit card. They took their items to the dressing rooms and examined how the articles of clothing looked on their bodies. Figuring SHIELD would pick up the tab, Natasha decided she was going to buy all three dresses, two purses, and a pair of sunglasses she'd picked out. Besides, she was getting 40% off. She couldn't pass up a deal that good.

When both women had coaxed one of employees out of the room in the back of the store, the woman rang up their items and put them in several bags. When all of their items were boxed and bagged, Natasha and Jennifer thanked the employees of the boutique before heading back out into the sunshine.

"This was fun!" Jennifer exclaimed. "Very rarely do I have someone to shop with so this was a nice change of pace."

"Well, I'm always happy to have a shopping companion," Natasha said. "Julien isn't exactly the best person to give me advice on how nice a dress looks on me or how cute a purse is."

Jennifer snorted a laugh as she adjusted the bags in her grip. "Men," she scoffed. "Can't live with them, can't live without them."

"Very true," Natasha said with a laugh. They walked down the road and reached the hotel. They turned into the courtyard before stepping into lobby, the cool air of the air conditioning hitting the women square in the chest.

"We should do this again sometime," Jennifer suggested.

"Oh that would be fantastic," Natasha agreed. "Now that Julien is working for Pierre, I'm going to be all alone."

"Don't worry about that," Jennifer said with a wave of her hand before pressing the button for the elevator. "I'll keep you company."

The two women stepped onto the elevator and they pressed the buttons for their respective floors. The elevator doors slid shut and the elevator began its ascent. The women rode in silence until they reached Natasha's floor. The doors slid open and Natasha took a couple steps forward before turning around to face Jennifer.

"Thank you so much for joining me today," Natasha said gratuitously.

"Oh no problem!" Jennifer exclaimed. "If you ever need a shopping companion or just need someone to talk to, I'm up on the next floor in suite 413."

"Great!" Natasha said too enthusiastically for her liking. "I'll see you around."

The two women bid adieu to one another and Natasha stepped out from the elevator doorway to let the doors slide shut. Natasha's grin faded the moment the doors closed and the elevator continued its ascent. She turned on her heel and headed down the hall as the Chanel bags swung back and forth at her side.

"Well don't think I won't take you up on that offer, Madame Moreau," Natasha muttered to herself as she whipped out her room key and slid it into the slot with a mischievous grin on her face.

* * *

After the firings of 78 women and the hiring of 93 more, Clint let out a sigh of relief that it was finally over. He tossed the papers onto Pierre's desk as the man in question shut the office door after shepherding the last woman out into the hall.

"Well, that was quite a process," Clint said as he rested his elbows on his knees and bowed his head to rub his temples. He had a splitting headache and he wouldn't be surprised if he'd turned a nasty shade of green due to how nauseous he felt.

"Yes, it's always quite exhausting," Pierre said as he crossed the room to the bar and poured himself another glass of brandy. "But the real work is done. Now all there is to do is keep them in line."

"Great," Clint grumbled as he continuously rubbed his temples.

There was silence between the two men as Clint tried to control his headache and Pierre sipped on his brandy. All Clint wanted to do was return to the hotel and recant all of the events to Natasha. He needed someone to unload to and Natasha was the only person who would be willing to listen.

"Julien, you know that I will be paying you for your services," Pierre said. "But I do have one more thing to offer you if you don't mind coming with me."

Clint lifted his head and nodded at Pierre. The man cracked a devilish grin before crossing the room to the door, glass of brandy still in hand. Clint rose from his seat and followed Pierre out of the room. They headed down the blinding white hallway before turning a corner that Clint never noticed before. A series of doors lined this hall and it was eerily quiet.

Silently, they headed down the hall before stopping in front of one of the doors. Pierre knocked in a special way, listening intently before opening the door to reveal a luxurious bedroom. There was a king sized bed with a canopy draped over the posters of the headboard and footboard. The carpet was soft and burgundy colored. A small chaise was positioned in the corner while an artificial fireplace was in another corner.

"Wait right here, won't you?" Pierre said. Before Clint could even protest, Pierre had slipped from the room, the door silently drifting shut. Awkwardly, Clint roamed the room, ultimately taking a seat on the edge of the king sized bed. He ran a hand over the expensive bedding material before standing up again to admire the rest of the room.

Just as he was crouching down in front of the artificial fireplace, Pierre returned. But he wasn't alone. In tow were five women who had just been hired that day. They were scantily clad – Clint assumed they were most likely forced to wear the expensive lingerie – and three of them were visibly shaking. Pierre ordered them to line up next to one another and they did as they were told. Clint watched in complete shock as the girls lined up next to one another and waited for further instructions.

Pleased with himself, Pierre turned back to Clint and approached him to clap a hand on his shoulder. "Julien, my dear man, in addition to the handsome pay I will award you, you have the honor of having first choice among these lovely women," Pierre said as he gestured towards the shaking women lined up on the other side of the room.

"W-what?" Clint stammered.

"These women," Pierre stated. "Which one would you rather have sex with?"

Clint's jaw dropped. Was he really offering Clint to have his way with one of the women that just been hired that day? "I-I'm sorry, Pierre, but I'm married," Clint countered.

Pierre chuckled. "Oh, what Charlotte doesn't know won't hurt her," the man said devilishly.

Clint couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Even if it were for the sake of the mission, Clint just couldn't do it. If denying this offer compromised him, then so be it. This was taking it way too far. But most of all, Clint could never do that to Natasha. Fuck the mission! He could never cheat on Natasha, his girlfriend, his partner, the Black Widow.

"Y-you know what, Pierre," Clint finally choked out. "It's been a long day. I'm really tired and I've got a splitting headache. Maybe some other time?"

Pierre nodded in understanding before reaching into his jacket pocket and procuring a white envelope. He handed it to Clint and Clint took it with a nod. He stuffed the envelope into his own shirt pocket before turning back to Pierre.

"I'll have Auguste show you out," Pierre said as he waltzed forward and grabbed one of the girls by the wrist. She yelped as she was yanked forward and Pierre hugged her to his chest. "I think I'll start with you," he drawled. Clint saw the girl swallow nervously and Clint wasn't sure he could hold down the bile that was rising in his own throat.

Without a word, Pierre led the girl out of the room, calling down the hall for Auguste to show Clint out. Auguste appeared moments later. He shepherded the other four women out of the room before leading Clint back to the hustle and bustle of the hotel and casino, leaving the secrets of the interior of the walls behind.

* * *

**Told you it wasn't a pleasant subject. If any of you are greatly offended by this, let me know and I'll try to tone it down or even change the rating. Also, it seems that when I go back to school, the reviews for any of my stories drop significantly. I'd really appreciate it if you guys reviewed these updates seeing as I'm taking time out of my schedule/schoolwork to work on these updates.**

**Anyways, as always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Super Bowl Sunday everyone! Time for some nachos and mini hot dogs and some commercials! And maybe a little football too but who cares about that!? Anyways, I have the next chapter here for you guys. I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Hey, how was your day…" Natasha trailed off as Clint burst through the door to the suite and streaked to the bathroom with his hand clasped over his mouth. Natasha watched with an arched eyebrow as Clint disappeared in the bathroom. She heard him retch and she jumped up from the bed to join him in the bathroom.

She stood in the doorway to see him hunched over the toilet bowl and throwing up all of the contents of his stomach. His body shook as he threw up again and Natasha stepped forward to rub his back. Clint sat hunched over the toilet bowl for a couple more minutes to make sure nothing else came up. Then, he flushed the toilet before resting his back against the wall.

"Clint, what happened?" Natasha said as she stroked his cheek.

Clint wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and then unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. His forehead was clammy and his breathing was rapid and heavy.

"Clint, what did Moreau do to you?" Natasha growled. "I swear to fucking God, Clint. I will kill him if he laid a finger on you."

"No," Clint said as he shook his head weakly. "He didn't do anything to me. Well, not physically."

Natasha tilted her head before resting her head on his shoulder. "What happened?" she asked softly.

"It was bad, Tasha," Clint said hoarsely. "I'm supposed to go back tomorrow, but I don't think I can."

Natasha nodded in understanding. Whether he told her what happened or not, it didn't matter. Clearly whatever happened had affected him greatly and Natasha didn't want to push it. "Clint, you don't have to go back," Natasha whispered as she laced her fingers through his. "We'll figure out another way to destroy them from the inside."

"No," Clint griped. "I don't want to do this, but I have to do this." Natasha nodded in understanding against his shoulder. "He offered to let me have sex with one of the new girls."

Natasha's head snapped up and she looked at Clint with a shocked expression. She watched Clint swallow nervously, refusing to meet her gaze. "I didn't do it," Clint croaked. "I couldn't. I wouldn't. I couldn't do it for the sake of the mission, but most importantly, I couldn't do that to _you_."

Natasha felt her jaw drop at Clint's confession. "The mission's not compromised, is it?" she asked stoically.

Clint shook his head. "We're supposed to be married, you know," he said matter-of-factly. "I played the part and told him I couldn't cheat on my wife. But in reality, I was just thinking that I couldn't do that to you."

This was the reason incidents like the botched mission in Rome happened. Clint and Natasha were too involved with one another, and she could just tell they would compromise this mission at some point or another. This was the exact reason Natasha didn't want to get involved with Clint Barton, but she just couldn't deny her feelings for him any longer.

"Well, I appreciate it," Natasha replied.

Clint chuckled before taking a deep breath. "How are we going to take him down?"

"From the inside," Natasha stated matter-of-factly. "I made friends with Jennifer today. Or, I guess Olia." Clint grunted in response so Natasha continued. "We went shopping and I have a feeling she'll come crawling back to me to vent about Christophe's absences."

"I wonder how many of those women _that bastard_ has screwed," Clint growled. "I wouldn't be surprised if his asshole of a brother gave him first pick since he's the one who rounds them all up."

Suddenly, Natasha had an idea. If they wanted to destroy this inner circle from the inside, Natasha had to get personal. Based on that elevator ride when they'd first met Christophe, it seemed like Jennifer didn't particularly like when Christophe was around other women. But Natasha couldn't know for sure unless she spent more time with Jennifer. And when she did, she would know if she could put her plan into effect.

"Clint, I think I have an idea," Natasha muttered. Clint's eyes snapped open and he lifted his head from where it rested against the wall. He stared back at Natasha with tired eyes in anticipation of her plan. She turned to face Clint before resting her chin on his shoulder. "I know you won't like it, but maybe it can be the catalyst to destroy the Moreaus from the inside.

"I was trained to seduce men," she continued. "And I know you didn't sleep with any of those girls because of me, but maybe we need to get the Moreaus to crack a bit."

Clint pulled away from Natasha, causing her to lift her head from his shoulder. He stared back at her with a confused yet aghast expression. "No Nat," he ordered.

"I won't," she affirmed. "We just need to get caught. You saw the way Jennifer acted when I first met Christophe. We just need to get caught together and that will slowly but surely get them to start falling apart."

"Yeah, but Nat, what if he – ."

"What if he what, Clint?" Natasha asked condescendingly. "You know I wouldn't let him take it too far."

Clint didn't like the idea of her seducing the enemy, but then again, she didn't like the idea of Clint being around Pierre today. It was a good plan, if everything worked out. The only way to know for sure it would work is if Natasha knew a little more about Jennifer's life with Christophe.

"I just need a little bit more time with Jennifer," Natasha said as she rested her head on Clint's shoulder. In response, he tilted his head to the side and rested it on top of Natasha's. "Just keep doing your job with Pierre and I'll take of the care of the rest."

Clint sighed out of discontent. She made it seem like he was the distraction. In any other situation, he probably wouldn't be okay with being called the distraction, but in this case, he didn't care. He wanted to take down the Moreaus just as badly as Natasha did. If that meant that Natasha had to do something Clint didn't quite approve of, then so be it.

"Fine," Clint sighed. "Just let me know when you're going to seduce the bastard so I can build up my gag reflex."

Natasha rolled her eyes as she pushed away from Clint and stood up. "Come on, Bird Brain," Natasha mumbled. "Let's get some real food in that stomach of yours. God knows what Pierre fed you today."

"Oh my God, I could really go for a cheeseburger right now," Clint moaned as he pushed himself off of the floor of the bathroom.

Natasha rolled her eyes again as she strode back into the bedroom. Sometimes she wondered why she was with Clint Barton. He could be immature, annoying, and downright stupid. But as she went over the list of all the negatives of Clint Barton, she realizes they're also the positives. So as she flopped down on the bed and grabbed the phone, she dialed room service and so innocently asked if they can prepare a cheeseburger for suite 313.

* * *

It took Clint a little longer to get ready to go to work for Pierre the next day, but Natasha encouraged him and also reassured him that everything would be okay. With a sigh, Clint dragged his feet as he headed out of the suite and headed to the hotel and casino to report for work. When Clint had left, Natasha pulled out their SHIELD issued laptop and opened up the program to view the key card system. She pulled up the floor plans for the fourth floor and zoomed in to view suite 413, Christophe and Jennifer Moreau's suite.

Natasha knew it was far too early for the Moreaus to be awake. It was barely six o'clock and even with a three-year-old son, the Moreaus would not be awake. So, to bide her time, Natasha called room service and ordered herself a nice breakfast. Not even 15 minutes later, there was a knock at her door as room service arrived to deliver her food to her. With a polite smile, Natasha thanked the man and tipped him handsomely before bidding him a good day.

After Natasha had finished her breakfast, she took a quick shower and got dressed before returning to the laptop. It was only seven o'clock, but she still hoped she didn't miss anyone entering or exiting the Moreau suite.

Around eight o'clock, Natasha started to pack up her belongings to head up to the Moreau suite. Eight o'clock seemed like a decent time to stop by, especially since the Moreaus had a three-year-old son. It was viable that they could be awake by now. Slipping out of the suite, Natasha glided down the hall to the elevator. She pressed the button and the elevator doors slid open to let Natasha on. She pressed the button for the fourth floor and the elevator doors slid shut to begin its ascent.

Before Natasha knew it, the elevator had reached the fourth floor and she stepped off to head down the hall to the Moreau suite. As she made her way down the hall, she could hear the sound of angry voices growing louder and louder. When she reached the Moreau suite, it seemed that the voices were coming from inside. Pressing her ear to the door, she could hear Jennifer and Christophe arguing in Russian. But it didn't last long, for the sound of footsteps grew closer to the door. Natasha backed away and took a couple steps down the hall to make it seem as if she was just arriving.

The door to suite 413 was yanked open and Christophe Moreau appeared in the hallway, fuming. He slammed the door behind him before he groaned to himself. He took a couple steps in Natasha's direction before noticing her presence.

"_Bonjour_," Natasha said. "_Ça va?_" (_Hello. Are you okay?_)

"_Ouais, ouais_," Christophe breathed, instantly calming down at the sight of Natasha.

"I was just swinging by to see if Jennifer would like to go to the beach today," Natasha said.

Christophe eyed Natasha suspiciously. She wasn't quite sure if he was actually suspicious of her or if he was eyeing her up and down like he did the first she'd met him. Either way, Natasha found it to be very creepy.

"Jennifer is feeling a little under the weather today," Christophe drawled as he took a step towards Natasha. "But I'm available if you need a companion."

"Wow," Natasha purred. "Get right to the point why don't you?"

"Well, your husband is working for my brother, which practically makes you two family," Christophe said. "Come on. How about some breakfast? My treat!"

Even though Natasha was full from her own breakfast, she nodded her head anyways. Christophe held his elbow out and Natasha graciously linked her arm through his as they marched down the hall to head to a nice seaside café for breakfast.

* * *

Christophe was quite an easy man to sway. After their lovely breakfast at a small café along the beach, they spent some time on the beach, admiring the scenery and soaking up the rays. As Natasha lounged in the sand, she made sure her breasts were perfectly displayed in her low-cut blouse and her legs were stretched out. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel Christophe's eyes on her, roaming up and down her body. She even expected a bit of drool to be coming out of the corner of his mouth.

It was around noon when Christophe offered to buy Natasha lunch as well. She smiled brightly at him and graciously accepted his offer. He helped her up from her place in the sand and she could've sworn she could feel his hand graze against her ass, but she brushed it off and acted like it didn't even happen.

They returned to the same seaside café that they had breakfast at and took a seat at a nice table al fresco. A waitress immediately approached their table and took their drink orders before disappearing to retrieve them. Natasha and Christophe sat in silence as they admired the scenery around them and enjoyed the nice sea breeze. When their waitress returned, they were ready to order and they quickly recited what they wanted to the waitress.

Once their waitress had taken their orders, she retrieved the menus from the table before disappearing into the café to turn in their order to the cooks. In the meantime, Natasha and Christophe silently sipped on their drinks as they listened to the waves crash on the beach.

"Are you enjoying Monaco, Madame Bouchard?" Christophe asked as he set his glass down on the table. He folded his arms on top of one another on the tabletop before leaning forward.

"Oh absolutely!" Natasha exclaimed. "It's so beautiful here and Julien and I were very happy to have met you and you're family. We're very thankful for the opportunity that Pierre has given Julien."

"Yeah," Christophe grumbled. Natasha could tell Clint was a sore subject for him. Clearly Christophe was very enamored with Natasha. "Well, he's probably hard at work right now, making some hard earned money to take you out to dinner or something."

Shyly, Natasha shrugged her shoulders. Julien may be very loyal to Charlotte, but Natasha was going to make it seem like Charlotte was questioning her marriage. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I don't like that he's gone all day. It makes me very suspicious but it's also an opportunity for me to be…adventurous."

There was a slight twitch in Christophe's face. To any normal person, they would not have noticed but for a trained spy such as Natasha, it was almost as if he'd had a seizure. Natasha nearly smirked.

"Well, you're in Monaco, darling," Christopher drawled. "You can be as adventurous as you would like."

Natasha had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat when Christophe called her darling. Clint didn't even call her pet names and if he did, he'd be pinned to the ground with a knife at his throat. But she had to be okay with it if Christophe called her by a pet name. For the sake of the mission, she had to be okay with it.

"Well," Natasha purred as she looked at Christophe seductively through her lashes. "Maybe you'll accompany me."

"I'd be delighted, doll," Christophe replied.

At that moment, their waitress returned to their table with their food and she placed each dish in front of its respective owner. When they'd thanked her, she waltzed off to tend to her other tables while Natasha and Christophe dug in. Natasha had to admit that Christophe had shit taste in restaurants. He claimed this was the best restaurant in Monaco and Natasha wanted to throw up both breakfast and now lunch. The food was absolutely terrible but she ate it anyways because a girl's got to eat.

Within no time, they finished off their meals. When Natasha had swallowed her last bite, Christophe flagged down their waitress and she came skipping up to the table. Christophe politely asked for the bill and she nodded before reaching into her apron to pull out a slip of paper. She bid Christophe and Natasha good day before skipping off to her other tables.

Without so much as batting an eyelash, Christophe slapped down a couple Euros, and then glanced at Natasha. She nodded her head to let her know that she was ready and then they both rose from their chairs to head back to the hotel. They walked in silence along the road that led back to the hotel. When they reached the hotel, they turned into the courtyard before walking through the front doors into the lobby.

They paused just inside the doors, turning to face one another. Natasha wasn't quite sure what was going to happen at this moment. They were definitely going to part ways. Natasha had had enough of Christophe for the day and she didn't exactly want to spend anymore time with him.

"Well, this was lovely, Christophe. Thank you," Natasha said politely.

"My pleasure," Christophe drawled as his eyes darted to look at something outside of Natasha's peripheral vision.

At that moment, Natasha noticed Clint walk through the front doors of the lobby. She saw him bow his head as he brushed past Natasha and Christophe to make his way across the lobby. Natasha hoped Christophe didn't notice it was him.

Taking a step forward, Natasha eyed Christophe seductively. "Maybe we could do this again sometime soon," she suggested.

"That would be lovely," Christophe whispered.

"Great," Natasha breathed against Christophe's lips just before they connected. It was simple and short and Natasha was thankful that Christophe didn't pull her in for more. So when she was finished, she pulled away and marched across the lobby. As she made her way to the elevators, Natasha noticed Jennifer hiding in the shadows, clearly having just witnessed the kiss between her and Christophe. But Natasha kept her eyes trained forward, acting as if she hadn't even noticed Jennifer standing there.

She reached the elevators and pressed the button to call the elevator to the lobby. Anxiously she waited for the elevator to arrive and it felt like forever until it actually reached the main floor. When the doors finally slid open, Natasha stepped forward and pressed the button for the third floor. As soon as the doors slid shut, Natasha slowly began to lose her composure. She nervously picked at her cuticles as she began to tap her foot.

The moment the elevator reached her floor, the doors had barely slid open when she squeezed through to sprint down the hall. She reached the suite she shared with Clint and fumbled to retrieve her key from her clutch. With shaky hands, she slid the key into the slot before stumbling through the door and sprinting to the bathroom.

Clint had barely gotten a word in when she tossed her clutch onto the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. She scrambled to grab her toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste. She hastily ran her toothbrush under the stream of water from the faucet and then squeezed a glob of toothpaste onto her brush. She shoved her toothbrush into her mouth and began to brush violently. Her gums were going to be sore but she needed to get the taste of Christophe Moreau out of her mouth.

She spit her toothpaste into the sink basin and then rinsed off her brush before rinsing out her mouth. Just as she was rinsing out her mouth, she noticed Clint leaning against the doorway of the bathroom in the bathroom mirror. Calmly, she returned her toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste to their proper places before turning around to face Clint.

"I give you the right to call me pet names," Natasha announced. "But only the ones I like."

"Huh?"

"Do not calling me darling or doll," she ordered.

"What about babe?" he asked hopefully.

"No."

"Sweetheart?"

"Maybe. We'll try it out."

"How about love?" he asked.

"Hmm, I guess that works," Natasha mused.

"Good," Clint said with a shit-eating grin. "Because, love, you're sleeping on that pull out couch tonight for making out with Christophe."

Natasha glared at him. "Don't push it, Barton."

* * *

**Think the plan will work? It seems like it's only just getting started. Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they help motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey everyone! I hope you guys like this chapter. There isn't a lot of Clint and Natasha interaction so I'm sorry about that. I promise there will be more, plus we'll see Clint working with Pierre again soon. But I hope you guys like this. Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha and Clint had to do some serious reconstruction with their back story once Natasha had committed to the seduction of Christophe Moreau. Charlotte Bouchard was bored with her marriage to Julien so she figured the trip to Monaco would bring the spark back into their marriage. But now that Julien was spending most of his time working for Pierre, she was feeling adventurous. Now that she'd met Christophe, she was sure she'd found her adventure.

As for Clint and Natasha, there was absolutely nothing wrong in their relationship. However, when they recited these details about Julien and Charlotte's personal life, even they'd begun to believe it. To push those details to the back of their minds, Natasha and Clint had made love in the shower. Charlotte and Julien may be having intimacy issues, but Natasha and Clint were not.

The next day, Clint went to work for Pierre as usual, leaving Natasha by herself. She wasn't planning another day with Christophe. Instead, she hoped to meet up with Jennifer. If Jennifer was bothered by the kiss in the lobby, she would've confronted Natasha by now. But she hadn't, so Natasha was still going to try to find out about Christophe and Jennifer's personal life.

Pulling a sheer green beach cover-up on top of her bikini, Natasha fluffed up her hair and then slid a pair of sunglasses on top of her head before heading out of the room. As far as she knew, Jennifer should still be in her hotel room so Natasha took the stairs up to the fourth floor to suite 413. She glided down the hall and stopped outside of the suite. She adjusted her green cover-up before rapping her knuckles on the door three times.

The sound of a child's voice grew closer until the door was yanked open and three-year-old Jacques stood in the doorway. "_Bonjour!_" he chirped.

Suddenly, the door opened further to reveal Jennifer. Her voice was devoid of all makeup and her hair was pulled up into a sloppy ponytail. She was wearing a ragged, old t-shirt and a pair of jeans. She bent down and scooped Jacques up in her arms before turning to Natasha.

"Hello," she said exasperatedly.

It wasn't cold or snooty, but tired and exhausted. Jennifer clearly wasn't happy to see Natasha but Jennifer was too nice. She wasn't going to push away the only person who had been nice to her.

"Is everything alright?" Natasha asked.

"Yes, yes, everything's alright," Jennifer said. "Just a little tired. Jacques kept me up all night."

"I'm so sorry," Natasha said apologetically.

Jennifer shook her head. "Don't be."

Natasha nodded her head in understanding. Something else was clearly going on behind closed doors with the Moreaus.

"You look like you could use some fun," Natasha said cheerily. "How about a trip to the beach? Little Jacques can build sandcastles. You can get some sun and a refreshing dip in the water."

Natasha could see Jennifer contemplating her offer. Natasha could practically see her weighing the pros and cons of going to the beach. It was almost as if she was wondering if she'd get in trouble for leaving the hotel room.

"Sure," Jennifer said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Let us just get ready." She stepped aside as she balanced Jacques on her hip. "You can come in if you'd like."

Natasha nodded and stepped into the suite. She waved Jennifer away and shut the door behind her. She watched as Jennifer bent over a set of suitcases and pulled out a wad of clothing. She stood up and turned to Natasha. "We'll just be a minute," she said as she gestured towards the bathroom.

Natasha nodded in understanding and Jennifer turned on her heel to disappear in the bathroom. Natasha heard the bathroom door click shut and she sprang into action. Stealthily moving about the room, she pulled open dresser drawers and lifted the mattress to check for any sort of important information or documents regarding Christophe or Jennifer. She knew Christophe wouldn't be stupid enough to hide anything of importance under the mattress but she figured she'd check just in case.

After a couple minutes of searching, Natasha heard the bathroom door open and she dropped into a chair on the other side of the room. Jacques toddled out into the room while Jennifer followed with two towels draped over her arm. She nodded to Natasha to let her know that she was ready and Natasha rose from her seat to follow Jennifer out of the room.

They walked down the hall in silence and the elevator ride was ridden in complete silence as well. When they reached the lobby, they filed out of the elevator one by one and headed out of the building to walk down to the beach.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky and Natasha had to slip her sunglasses over her eyes the moment she stepped outside. The sun was far too bright for nine o'clock in the morning. She followed Jennifer down the sidewalk until they crossed the street to the beach. A few early morning sunbathers were already lounging on the lounge chairs strewn about the beach. A small group of children were splashing in the water while a woman – supposedly their mother – looked on in admiration.

Jennifer made a beeline for two empty lounge chairs shielded by an umbrella and she immediately claimed the first one in the row by dropping her towels onto the seat. Natasha walked to the second lounge chair and sat down on the edge before scooting backwards to relax.

Natasha heard Jennifer sigh as she sat down in her lounge chair. She handed a bag to Jacques and he immediately dug inside to pull out a set of plastic buckets and shovels to begin making sandcastles. The little boy immediately forgot about the two women as he began to shovel the white sand into his bucket.

"He's very well behaved, you know," Natasha commented as Jacques contentedly dumped his bucket of sand upside down only for the structure to collapse.

Jennifer shrugged. "At times," she said. "He prefers the beach over the pool any day."

"Most kids do," Natasha noted.

Jennifer pulled off her t-shirt and shorts and lounged back in her chair. She slid her sunglasses down onto her face and then tilted her head back to rest against the chair. "This may be a strange question seeing as I only know you and your husband, but you two don't have kids do you?" Jennifer asked.

"Oh no, no," Natasha answered politely.

"Thinking about it?" Jennifer inquired.

Natasha shrugged. "Maybe."

The two women sat in silence. They basked in the sun as the waves crashed in the distance and the seagulls squawked from up above. Every so often, a squeal of discontent would come from Jacques as his sandcastle didn't quite work out to his liking. Otherwise, they laid in complete silence, soaking up the bright rays of the sun.

Natasha knew she had to start some sort of conversation with Jennifer. Otherwise, the trip to the beach would be completely pointless. Natasha wasn't one to just sit around and sunbathe – especially when she was on a mission – but how to pose a question about their personal life, Natasha wasn't quite sure.

Then, Natasha figured, she'd just nonchalantly ask about the day before. Christophe had definitely lied about Jennifer being ill. He had just said that to keep Natasha away from her.

"Jennifer, are you feeling better?" Natasha asked. "I stopped by the suite yesterday and Christophe had said you weren't feeling well."

Natasha turned to face Jennifer, only to see her head snap to the side. "I, umm, yeah," Jennifer stuttered. "I just had a bit of a headache. Going out in the sun would not have helped."

"Oh, that's a shame," Natasha pouted. "I hope they don't happen too often."

Natasha noticed Jennifer stiffen in the slightest. There was something more to this.

"They don't happen often, do they?" Natasha asked.

Jennifer shrugged her shoulders. "Only when Ch…" she trailed off, mumbling inaudibly under her breath.

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch that," Natasha coaxed.

"Only when Christophe and I…" she trailed off again.

Natasha stared back at Jennifer. She hoped that if she maybe stared her down, it would convince her to confess. Taking a deep breath, Jennifer wrung her hands together. "Only when Christophe and I fight," she whispered just loud enough for Natasha to hear.

"Oh I'm so sorry," Natasha moaned sympathetically. "I should've never asked."

Jennifer sighed and she looked as if a weight had been taken off of her shoulders. "No, no," she sighed. "Actually, it feels good to talk about it."

"So, then, how often do you and Christophe fight?" Natasha asked.

Jennifer shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes we can go months without fighting. Other times, we'll fight every couple of hours."

"It happens in marriages," Natasha said, hoping it would comfort Jennifer. "Julien and I aren't exactly in a good place right now."

"But you two seem so happy!" Jennifer exclaimed.

Natasha let out a small laugh. "We like to put on an act for people who don't know us," Natasha said. It was so strange how true that statement was. "Well, I hope this doesn't keep happening. You're in Monaco for Christ's sake!"

Jennifer let out a laugh. "That is very true," she said in agreement. "But we're here for business and I don't…quite approve."

Natasha smirked to herself. Now they were getting somewhere. "Does this have anything to do with my husband too?" Natasha asked vaguely.

"Since he's working for them, I'm assuming he knows _exactly_ what's going on," Jennifer growled.

Natasha found this to be very strange. Jennifer had been trafficked by her husband. She was given a better life than what she'd had. It was strange that she didn't quite approve of what they were doing.

"You're against what they're doing," Natasha stated.

"Yes, didn't I already say that?" Jennifer asked, her voice laced with irritation.

"Jennifer," Natasha said calmly as she reached across the space between their chairs to rest a hand on Jennifer's arm. "I know what they're doing."

Jennifer sat up and removed her sunglasses from her face to reveal her wide eyes. Her jaw had dropped and she was staring at Natasha in awe. "Did Julien tell you?" she asked.

"Of course," Natasha said as she relaxed back in her lounge chair. "Our marriage may be on the rocks but we still talk to one another."

Jennifer stared at Natasha for a couple more seconds before sliding her sunglasses back on her face. Natasha watched her out of the corner of her eye as she leaned her back against the chair, but Natasha could tell she was still stiff as a board.

"So you know that Christophe's trying to find a new wife then?" Jennifer inquired.

Natasha felt her blood run cold. So Christophe had grown tired of Jennifer and was now looking for a new bride. That's when Natasha realized why Christophe had taken such an interest in her. He liked her. He wanted her. He wanted to marry her. And that's why Jennifer had been so tense when Christophe and Natasha first met.

"Oh I'm so sorry, Jennifer," Natasha said innocently.

"It happens," Jennifer shrugged nonchalantly. "Marriages fall apart. People move on."

"No, Jennifer, this is not how it's supposed to be," Natasha said, genuinely concerned for her well-being now. "He's not supposed to choose from a bevy of women that were brought here against their will."

Jennifer shrugged her shoulders again. Natasha was in complete shock. Christophe was going to drop her like a sack of potatoes. Now that Natasha had practically told Christophe that Charlotte's marriage was falling apart, Christophe was definitely going to pursue Natasha. And the thought made Natasha want to throw up. But she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and took a deep breath as she waited for a response from Jennifer.

However, she didn't get one for Jennifer rose from her lounge chair and took Jacques by the hand to lead him down to the water. Natasha watched them skirt along the edge of the water before dipping their toes in. Natasha stared at their backs as the two of them admired the bright blue water of the French Riviera and Natasha realized that this may be their last trip to Monaco.

* * *

Natasha needed a drink and she needed it now. When she parted ways with Jennifer in the lobby of the hotel after spending most of the day at the beach, she bid her good day before making a beeline for the closest bar. Not even bothering to put on her fake persona for the bartender, she ordered a vodka on the rocks and before she knew it, the clear glass was positioned in front of her with a straw and a napkin. She swiped the glass off of the table and took a long, meaningful sip of the hard liquor. She slammed the glass back down on the counter before pulling her phone out of her bag. She searched through her contacts and landed on the name "Julien." Selecting the correct number, she pressed her phone up to her ear as she listened to the ringing on the other end.

Unfortunately, Clint didn't pick up and the robotic voice on the other end told Natasha to leave a message. There was a beep that was a signal for Natasha to start and she took a deep breath. "Darling," Natasha said, hoping Clint would know she was being Charlotte and not Natasha. "I'm not feeling well so I was just calling to see when you'd be home. Call me when you get the chance."

Natasha disconnected the call and dropped her phone back into her purse. Sighing, she grabbed her glass of vodka and downed the remaining contents in her glass.

"Rough day?" she heard heavily accented gruff voice from her right. Putting on a show, Natasha jumped as she whipped her head around to see Christophe seated on the stool next to her with a sly grin plastered on his face.

Natasha composed herself, letting a smile spread across her face. "Long day in the sun makes me thirsty," Natasha joked.

Christophe chuckled. "Why don't you let me buy you another drink? You're done with that one."

Natasha wanted to do anything but spend more time with this bastard, but playing the part meant she had to spend time with him. With a smirk, she shook her glass and the ice rattled from within. Christophe smiled devilishly and then snapped his fingers to garner the bartender's attention. The bartender dropped what he was doing and approached Christophe and Natasha. Christophe simply grabbed Natasha's glass and pushed it across the counter. The bartender nodded to Christophe and walked away to refill Natasha's glass.

Christophe and Natasha waited in silence while the bartender refilled Natasha's drink. Within a couple minutes, the bartender had returned and slid Natasha's glass of vodka across the counter before stalking off to tend to his other customers. Delicately wrapping her fingers around the glass, she brought it up to her lips and tasted the drink.

"Taste okay?" Christophe asked.

Natasha swallowed the harsh liquid before turning to Christophe. She cracked a smile as she seductively stared at him. "Tastes fine," Natasha purred. Natasha may be able to handle two vodka on the rocks but Charlotte can't. "I'm already thinking about having another."

"Oh," Christophe moaned.

"Only if you'll join me," Natasha purred as she rested her chin in her hand. She saw Christophe tense up and stare back at Natasha. He held her gaze for a couple more seconds before snapping his fingers again to call for the bartender. The irritated bartender appeared in front of Christophe and he ordered rum on the rocks. The bartender nodded before sauntering off to prepare Christophe's drink.

As Christophe waited for his drink, Natasha eyed him out of the corner of her eye as she sipped her drink. Natasha hadn't planned to seduce Christophe this soon, but the opportunity had come up. If she could just get him slightly drunk and then seduce him, all she would need is Jennifer to catch them. If she played it right, it could work.

The bartender approached and slid Christophe's drink across the counter. Christophe caught his drink in his hand and then raised it for a toast in one swift move. With a smirk, Natasha raised her glass and tapped it against Christophe's with a _clink_. They smirked at one another before tipping their respective glasses to their lips.

Natasha watched Christophe take a big swig of his rum. He pulled the glass away from his lips for a second before taking another long swig. Natasha smirked to herself before taking another sip of her vodka.

Game on.

* * *

Several hours and close to 20 drinks later, Christophe was pretty wasted. He could barely stay balanced on his bar stool and he was slurring his words. And while Natasha had about the same amount of drinks that Christophe did, she was only slightly tipsy but still coherent. But she was nothing like Christophe. She could handle her liquor pretty well, but she needed to play the party of a drunk woman. So she slurred her words and swayed back and forth on her bar stool as well.

Natasha had to admit that she had lost track of time, though. She knew for sure that it was well past dark and Clint must have returned from work with Pierre, but how late it was, she wasn't sure. She just continued to laugh and drink with Christophe as the night wore on.

Around the time they ordered their 21st drink, Christophe turned to Natasha, swaying back and forth on his bar stool. His drink sloshed around in his glass and Christophe fended off a belch. "Yeh know," Christophe slurred. "Jennifer should be picking up Jacques from a play date from earlier tonight. Want to go upstairs?"

Natasha let out a high-pitched giggle. "Oh Christophe," she cooed flirtatiously.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

"How quick?" Natasha asked, her eyes widening.

Christophe shrugged. "A few minutes."

Wherever Jennifer was, it couldn't be far. Natasha figured she'd be gone and back in ten minutes or less. That was if Jacques didn't give her a hard time to leave his play date.

"Give me a couple seconds in the bathroom and we'll head upstairs," Natasha purred. She slammed her glass down onto the counter and then slid off of her stool. She remembered to stumble a couple steps as she walked away because Charlotte definitely had to be wasted after 21 drinks.

When Natasha knew she was out of Christophe's sight, she ducked around the corner and quickly pulled her phone out of her purse. She dialed Clint's number and anxiously listened to it ring. Fortunately, Clint picked up on the third ring, and before he could even get a word in, Natasha was talking a hundred miles a minute.

"I'm going upstairs with Christophe," Natasha stated. "Jennifer's gone for at least the next ten minutes. I need you to keep an eye on the entrance. If you climb up to the Moreau's balcony, I think you'll be able to spot Jennifer when she comes back.

"But I need you to make sure Christophe doesn't take anything too far," Natasha continued. "He's completely wasted. Drunk or sober, I don't trust him one bit. If anything goes wrong before or after Jennifer returns, I need you to intervene."

There was silence from Clint's end and Natasha got nervous that something had happened to him. She pulled her phone away from her ear to check that the call was still ongoing and her doubts dissipated when she saw the numbers tick by.

"Got it," Clint said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Be careful, Nat."

"Always am," she said before disconnecting the call. She tossed her phone back into her bag and adjusting her clothing before stumbling around the corner back to Christophe. As she approached the bar, she decided to fake a trip and she stumbled forward into Christophe's arms.

"Careful, darling," Christophe said. "Ready?"

Natasha let out a high-pitched drunken giggle. "Lead the way," she cooed.

Christophe slid off of his bar stood and offered his arm out for Natasha. She linked her arm through his as he led the way out of the bar. Crossing the lobby, Natasha noticed Christophe held his head high as if he was proud he was going to ruin both and his and hers marriages. Natasha had to fight back the urge to roll her eyes at his salacious behavior.

They reached the elevators and they immediately loaded onto one with a group of people. Christophe pressed the button corresponding to the fourth floor and the doors slid shut. Christophe and Natasha, along with the group of other passengers, rode the elevator in silence to their respective floors. When the elevator reached the fourth floor, Christophe and Natasha slipped out onto the fourth floor and headed down the hall to Christophe's suite.

Walking at a fast pace, they made it to Christophe's suite in no time. He pulled out his key card and slid it into the slot to gain access to his suite. The small light on the door blinked green and he opened the door. The two of them stumbled into the room and as soon as the door slammed shut, Natasha attacked Christophe's lips with hers.

Natasha knew Clint had to be watching. She knew he was out there, lingering in the shadows, and she couldn't even begin to fathom how he must feel to watch her seduce Christophe. She'd done it on missions in the past while he waited in the shadows to strike, but now they were dating. They were compromised. Watching her seduce Christophe had to be ten times more painful to watch than it had in the past.

Natasha lightly shoved Christophe in the chest and their lips broke apart as Christophe stumbled backwards into the room. Natasha followed Christophe, pulling her green sheer beach cover-up over her head. Christophe's eyes widened at Natasha's fit figure and she saw him subtly lick his lips like the pig that he was.

"Bed," Natasha ordered, pointing to the king sized bed in the middle of the room. Christophe flopped onto the bed and Natasha straddled him in her skimpy bikini.

"There's no chance that you're doing all the work, doll," Christophe drawled before flipping Natasha over and straddling her. Natasha giggled before pulling Christophe's lips to hers.

As Christophe practically ate her face, she felt his meaty hands start to roam her body. At that moment, she was glad she was lying on her back so that Christophe couldn't feel the stab wound scar at the small of her back. No doubt he would ask questions and Natasha wasn't quite prepared to come up with a fake background story.

She felt Christophe bite her lower lip and Natasha let out a voluntary moan. The man chuckled as he started to pull at the strings that held her bikini bottoms together. She let him pull the strings apart for the right side of the bottoms before she slapped his hands away.

"My turn," Natasha purred as she clawed at Christophe's belt and quickly unbuckled it before pulling it through the loops. She tossed the belt on the floor before unbuttoning the man's pants. Christophe pushed off of Natasha to stand up straight and shimmy his pants off of his body. He stepped out his pants and then straddled Natasha once again in just his dress shirt and boxers.

"Keeping my boxers on," he said. "It'll be easier to pull ourselves together after we're done."

"Fine by me," Natasha purred. She pulled his lips down back to hers and the moment their lips connected, she heard the suite door click open.

_Show time_, Natasha thought as she smirked to herself.

She heard the sound of tiny feet pad across the floor, followed by a pair of more defined footsteps. She heard the squeaky voice of three-year-old Jacques before she heard Jennifer gasp. Natasha peeked over Christophe's shoulder and shrieked before shoving Christophe off of her. She hastily tied the right side of her bikini bottoms before adjusting her top and pushing herself off of the bed.

"Jennifer - ," Natasha started but Jennifer took one step towards Natasha and promptly smacked her across the face. Natasha's head whipped to the side as the sting of the slap tingled on her skin.

"Get the fuck out of here," Jennifer hissed.

Natasha stared at Jennifer with wide eyes before nodding curtly. She brushed past the blonde and scooped up her beach cover-up on the way out. She yanked open the suite door and let it slam behind her as she walked with determination down the hall, pretty pleased with what she had accomplished.

* * *

**Uh oh, so it looks like Natasha/Charlotte and Jennifer/Olia's friendship is history. But there's more drama to come. Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they help motivate me to write so please leave a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone! I have the next chapter here for you. I'm sorry if it seems choppy but I think you guys are going to like the ending haha. Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint and Natasha went about their business as usual. Natasha spent the next day poolside while Clint spent the whole day working for Pierre. Things had become absolutely unbearable working for Pierre. Every day, Clint had to keep track of the women that were scheduled for sexual activities with hotel patrons and after the few days Clint had been working for Pierre, the job had become old.

Before Clint's lunch break, Pierre had, once again, offered Clint pick of the women but Clint obviously declined. Typically, Pierre would shrug his shoulders as if to say "Suit yourself" but this time around, he smirked at Clint. It was the smallest of smirks, but it made Clint nervous and he wondered if he'd been compromised.

Natasha's stunt with Christophe probably didn't put her in Pierre's good graces either. Pierre may barely know Natasha – or at least the character she played – but Clint had a feeling Pierre was onto them. Natasha's stunt with Christophe probably made her seem suspicious so Clint couldn't even imagine what kinds of theories Pierre had put together.

Other than that, Pierre didn't say a thing to Clint. There weren't any signs in his body language or facial expressions that convinced Clint that Pierre may know something. Maybe Clint was paranoid. Maybe he was just nervous of the aftermath of Natasha's seduction of Christophe. There could definitely be repercussions of Natasha's actions.

In that case, as Clint was dismissed for his lunch break, he just hoped Natasha was watching her back.

* * *

After a couple of hours, Natasha grew bored of sitting poolside so she pulled her beach cover-up on before heading back into the hotel. She wasn't quite bored to the point that she wanted to retire to the suite so she headed into the casino. Making a beeline for the bar first, she ordered a glass of champagne before heading to the tables to try out a game.

Typically, she left the gambling to Clint. He was far better at it anyways since he had a history of gambling while he had been in the circus as a child. Clint had taught her how to count cards and a few other tricks so every so often, she gambled herself. Today seemed like a good day to try her hand at gambling using Clint's tricks.

Gliding across the room to scope out a table, she noticed a blackjack table on the outskirts of the room that only required the minimum bet. She made a beeline for the table before stopping several feet away from it to watch the game in play so she could start counting cards. In the meantime, she absentmindedly sipped her champagne as she played around with her phone.

When she felt ready, she waited for the current game to finish before taking a seat at one of the empty chairs at the table. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a couple bills and slid them across the table so the dealer could exchange them for chips. When she had her money exchanged for chips, she put her bet in and the game began.

At first, Natasha had to lose a couple hands in order to get a feel for the deck. Once she knew her advantage, she started placing higher bets but she knew that every so often she had to lose so she didn't become suspicious.

After a while, Natasha had grown bored of the game too. Now that she had seduced Christophe and pretty much ruined his marriage, she had nothing to do. For the time being, she and Clint had absolutely no plan. Christophe and Jennifer's marriage had only been falling apart. Natasha had only made it crumble to pieces.

With a sigh, Natasha pulled out of the game and collected her winnings before heading across the casino to cash out. Weaving in and out of the crowd, she could feel someone follow her. Years at SHIELD and training from the Red Room had caused her to be alert at all times and she could definitely feel the presence of someone's eyes on her. Keeping calm, she traded in her chips for cash and then shoved the wad of bills in her clutch.

She started to head out of the casino when she noticed Jennifer heading her way. Natasha stopped dead in her tracks and gulped nervously before trying to find another route out of the casino. She turned sharply to her left and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jennifer follow her.

Natasha kept her eyes trained forward as she made her way to the alternate casino exit. Jennifer hadn't been the presence she had felt before so Natasha knew that Jennifer and the other person had to be working together. Natasha made another sharp turn and was greeted with the sly grin of Christophe Moreau. Natasha let out a voluntary gasp and clutched a hand to her chest.

Putting on the act of a frightened Charlotte Bouchard, she dropped her hand from her chest and smiled at Christophe. "Oh, you frightened me," Natasha purred.

"Sorry," Christophe drawled. "Didn't mean to."

"Come to fuck my husband again?" Natasha heard Jennifer spat from behind her. Natasha turned around to see Jennifer glaring at her with her arms folded across her chest.

Natasha rolled her eyes at Jennifer. "Darling, I was drunk. We all do stupid stuff when we're drunk."

"Oh, so you just so happened to get drunk with him and nearly fuck him several hours after I admitted he was trying to find a new wife?" Jennifer questioned.

They were ganging up on her. Natasha could see exactly where it was going. They were suspicious of her and now they were teaming up to do something to her. What exactly they were planning to do to her, Natasha wasn't sure, but she was going to make sure it didn't happen.

"Look," Natasha spat. "It seems as though you two have made up. You're ganging up on me and you've scared me, alright? We're even."

"Oh no," Jennifer protested as she took a step towards Natasha. "We are far from even."

At that moment, Natasha felt a needle penetrate the base of her spine. Whatever was in that needle, it was working quickly and effectively. Natasha's vision had already started to darken and her thoughts started to cloud as the sedative that now ran through her veins started to take over.

* * *

It had been another long day of keeping the women in line so as Clint sat in Pierre's office, having a drink with the man in question, he couldn't be happier that it was over. Once he was done with his drink, he was going to return to his hotel and relax. Hopefully Natasha would be back in the suite instead of prancing around the pool or the casino and they could order room service. He just wanted a relaxing night with his partner and girlfriend to unwind from the day's events.

As Clint finished off his glass of whiskey, he could see Pierre eyeing him suspiciously from out of the corner of his eye. All day he'd been watching Clint and Clint had grown increasingly nervous throughout the day. All Clint could think was that he was compromised. He and Natasha were compromised. Their cover was blown and the mission was a failure. But Pierre had just gone about his day as usual, not even confronting Clint once. Then again, Clint didn't quite expect Pierre to confront him in public so he was probably saving it for now when they were alone in his office.

Pierre took a sip of his brandy and then set his glass down on his desk as he cleared his throat. He lounged back in his chair and clasped his hands together loosely. "So, Julien, how is the missus doing?" Pierre asked.

_Oh shit_, Clint thought. _We've definitely been made._

Casually, Clint shrugged shoulders before resting his back against his own chair. "She's good," Clint said. "A little bored now that I've been working for you but she manages."

"I can't imagine how she must be feeling. You two came to Monaco for a vacation and I took her away from you," Pierre said as he jutted out his lower lip in a fake, sympathetic pout.

Clint chuckled. "Well, she's good at finding things to keep herself busy."

_Probably not the smartest choice of words, Clint_, Clint thought to himself.

Pierre nodded in understanding. "I heard that the two of you came here because you'd been having problems in your marriage," Pierre said.

Clint shrugged again. "I suppose," he said. "She always wanted to come to Monaco so I figured now was a good time."

Pierre nodded. He stared at Clint for a few seconds before rising from his chair and gathering up his glass for a refill. He was about halfway to his makeshift bar in the corner of his office when he turned around and asked Clint if he would care for a refill too. Clint politely declined, claiming he'd had enough for one night. In reality, Clint was just far too nervous about what was to come.

Silently, Pierre refilled his glass with some brandy and then marched back to his chair behind his desk. He flopped down in his chair and took a huge gulp of his brandy before slamming the glass down on the desk.

"So, what do you think she does all day?" Pierre questioned as he sloppily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Once again, Clint shrugged. "I don't know. Lounge by the pool? Go shopping? Go to the spa?" he mused.

"Typical things you'd expect your wife to do, right?" Pierre asked.

"Y-yeah, I guess." Clint was getting nervous. For the time being, he wasn't too concerned about his own personal well being. In the pit of his stomach, he had a feeling something bad was going to happen to Natasha and Clint was going to have some involvement in it.

"Well," Pierre drawled as he leaned forward. He rested his arms on top of the desk, folding them on top of one another. "I hate to break it to you – and mostly because you shouldn't be hearing this from me – but your wife has been cheating on you."

It took all of Clint's energy to fake surprise. But of course Pierre would know about Natasha's involvement with Christophe. The two brothers were close. It was inevitable that Christophe would reveal the details of his and Natasha's romp from the night before.

"Like I said," Pierre said with a sigh. "You shouldn't be hearing this from me. Honestly, I think your wife should be the one to tell you. But to make matters worse, she's been cheating on you with another married man. And that married man just so happens to be my brother."

"I just can't believe it," Clint breathed as he held his head in his hands.

"I don't condone cheating," Pierre said.

_But you condone the illegal trafficking of human beings and forcing them to have sex?_ Clint sarcastically thought to himself.

"I don't necessarily condone revenge either," Pierre continued. "But in this case, since my brother was involved, I think revenge is a good option."

Clint raised his head from his hands and shot a bewildered expression at Pierre. "I'm sorry. I don't quite follow," he said.

With a devilish smile, Pierre rose from his chair and rounded his desk. Without a word to Clint, he gestured for him to follow him as he headed for the office door. He yanked the door open and headed down the white hall towards the many rooms used for the girls to perform sexual activities with clients. Clint followed but stayed a couple steps behind as he followed Pierre down the hall.

The white halls seemed endless until Pierre finally stopped in front of a door for one of the rooms. He turned to face Clint and he smirked at him before knocking on the door in a special way. There was the sound of a gruff voice from the other side of the door and Pierre twisted the doorknob to gain access to the room.

Pierre took the first step into the room and Clint followed. This room was the same set up as the last one Clint had been in that one day. Everything was red to create a romantic atmosphere. There was a large bed with plush red bedding and a fake fire place that was currently turned on to create a tranquil mood in the room. However, Pierre and Clint were not alone.

Standing on the other side of the room were Christophe and Jennifer. Christophe was standing with his arms folded across his chest as he impatiently shifted from one foot to the other. He was dressed in one of his fine pressed suits, but his tie was slightly loose. There was a small line of perspiration along his brow and Clint suddenly realized how uncomfortably hot the room was.

Clint's eyes traveled over to Jennifer and he realized she looked pissed. Her hands were resting on her hips and her right leg was sticking out at an angle. As if her stance wasn't enough to give away her angry disposition, the daggers she was shooting at the person tied to the chair between her and her husband was enough of an indication to let Clint know that she meant business.

That's when it really sunk in for Clint that there was a fifth person in the room. His gaze followed Jennifer's to the person tied to the chair with a bag over their head. Clint's eyes traveled over the beach cover-up, the T-strap sandals, and the strings to the black string bikini she wore underneath the cover-up. Clint eyes traveled over the swell of her breasts underneath the cover-up, the curve of her hips, and the toned muscles of her legs. Clint knew who was underneath that bag and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be around for the big reveal.

"So, Julien," Pierre said, breaking the silence. "Your wife was caught in an uncompromising position with my brother by Jennifer. Your marriage is on the rocks and Madame Bouchard decided the best way to bring the spark back into your marriage was by having sex with another man."

Clint nodded nervously. He didn't like where this was going. He didn't like where this was going one bit.

"I believe marriage is sacred," Pierre continued as he took a step towards the hostage tied to the chair. "And when that sacred bond is broken, especially when two couples are involved, I believe revenge is the best bet."

Pierre stopped right in front of the woman tied to the chair and grabbed the top of the bag. He paused before lifting the bag from her head, causing her to come face-to-face with Pierre. "I think it's time for a taste of your own medicine, darling," Pierre drawled.

Clint swallowed nervously as Pierre stepped aside and his eyes connected with the helpless green ones of his partner and girlfriend.

* * *

**Uh oh, cliffhanger! What do you think the Moreaus have in mind for Natasha? What do you think they'll make Clint do? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they help motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everyone! I've got the next chapter here for you. You can all breathe easier now haha. Enjoy!**

* * *

Staring at his partner with his mouth agape, he quickly ran his eyes over her body to check for any visible injuries. As far as he could tell, she hadn't been harmed fatally in any way, but there was no telling if they'd injected her with anything. Clint had learned over the past few days to not underestimate the Moreaus. These people were capable of anything and everything.

Clint's eyes continued to roam up Natasha's body until his gaze locked on hers. His eyes searched hers and Clint realized that she wasn't scared. Then again, he wasn't sure why he expected her to be. Instead, Clint could see a great deal of anger in her eyes. Whatever they had done to her, she was clearly pissed and it only fueled her obsession to take these bastards out. But the issue now was how were they going to do that when one of them was essentially captured?

"So, Julien," Pierre said as he clapped a hand on Clint's shoulder. Clint genuinely jumped at the contact and looked at Pierre with wide eyes. Pierre chuckled at Clint's reaction but continued anyways. "Look, cheating is a terrible thing. If I had a wife, I wouldn't even speak the word, but since this hits close to home for both you and me, we need to take action."

"W-what are we going to do?" Clint asked nervously.

Pierre chuckled. "Well, technically, _we're_ not going to do anything," he said. "_You're_ going to do all the work."

Pierre turned to Christophe and nodded once. With that, Christophe headed towards the door. He pulled it open then stuck his head out into the hall to peer down the white passage. After a couple seconds, he pulled himself back into the room with a petite, scantily clad blonde girl in tow. Clint watched with wide eyes as Christophe practically dragged the trembling blonde girl into the room.

_He can't be serious_, Clint thought to himself.

Christophe practically dragged the girl to the middle of the room, her wrist clutched tightly in his hand. Christophe pulled the girl to his side with much force and the girl let out a yelp. Christophe flashed a devilish grin at the girl and Clint could visibly see her shiver from head to toe. With a mischievous grin that rivaled his brother's, Pierre sauntered over to the blonde girl and squeezed her face in between her fingers. With her face still squeezed in between her fingers, Pierre turned back to Clint with a grin spread across his face.

"This is Oksana," Pierre said proudly. "But you can call her Sara. Actually, call her whatever you want because it's not like she'll know anyways."

Out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw Natasha shift uncomfortably in her chair. For a second, Clint thought Jennifer was threatening her but Clint knew what it was like to be bound to a chair. He didn't blame her for squirming against her restraints.

"This situation needs to balance itself out," Pierre continued. "An eye for eye, I guess you could say."

Clint let out a genuine nervous laugh. He wasn't quite sure how to react to this situation. They hadn't been compromised, but they might as well have been. Natasha was bound to her chair and Clint was going to be forced to do God knows what with this poor blonde girl.

"So what are you suggesting I do?" Clint questioned.

Pierre flashed a mischievous smile at Clint. He wrapped an arm around the blonde girl's waist and pulled her close to his side. "Well, Oksana is at your service. You can do whatever you want to her. Just make sure she's able to walk in the morning. One of my clients has her on reserve for tomorrow," Pierre said with a sly grin.

Clint was silent. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And, my wife?" Clint asked as he nodded towards Natasha.

"Ah, that's where the eye for an eye comes in," Pierre said slyly. He waltzed over to Natasha and squeezed her face between his fingers. Natasha shot him a nasty look and Pierre responded with a sly grin. "Madame Bouchard here is going to enjoy the entertainment."

Clint saw Natasha glance at him out of the corner of her eye for a second before looking back at Pierre. However, Pierre didn't notice because his gaze was locked on Clint. "Jennifer had to walk in on her husband and your wife in bed together. I think Madame Bouchard needs to know how it feels," Pierre drawled.

Clint felt his blood run cold. Clint figured they could get out of this mess if Christophe, Pierre, and Jennifer weren't in the room when this so-called "eye for an eye" situation went down. If they stuck around, Clint may just be having sex with a complete stranger in front of his partner and girlfriend.

However, Clint pushed that thought to the back of his head and he smiled mischievously at Pierre. "You know what, I don't know what I was adamant about. This sounds perfect," Clint lied through his teeth.

Pierre grinned as he took a handful of Natasha's hair and tugged. The red-headed agent winced at the feeling but otherwise, didn't make a sound. Clint tried his hardest to look like he enjoyed watching Natasha at Pierre's mercy but it was hard for him. He didn't want to see his partner – most importantly, his girlfriend – at the enemy's mercy, especially since he was in the room and could do something about it. Unfortunately, doing so would blow their cover and they'd come this far. Clint couldn't risk compromising them now.

"You're going to find out what it feels like," Pierre growled in Natasha's ear. He yanked her head back and Natasha narrowed her eyes to slits as she glared at Pierre. She took a deep breath before gathering up a mouthful of saliva and spitting right in Pierre's face. Pierre flinched as the spit landed on his cheek and he reached up to wipe it off. He stared at the liquid on his fingers before promptly smacking Natasha across the face with the spit still on his hand.

Natasha let out a faint whimper and Clint knew it was just for show, but he still didn't like it. Pierre was taking this too far; Clint had to step in.

"Hey, hey!" Clint bellowed. Pierre froze with his hand in the air, ready to strike Natasha again. Clint glared at him and Pierre lowered his hand to his side. "She's my wife," Clint continued icily. "Let me determine her punishment."

Pierre stared at Clint for a couple seconds before cracking a devilish grin. "Of course, Julien."

Clint nodded as Pierre turned to Christophe and nodded his head towards the door. Pierre turned on his heel and both Christophe and Jennifer stepped forward to follow. The trio was almost out the door when Clint called out to stop them. They stopped dead in their tracks and turned around to face Clint with expectant gazes.

Clint stared back at them. His eyes roamed over the trio before landing on Jennifer. "I think Jennifer should stay," Clint suggested. "She's been hurt just as much as I have. She deserves some sort of enjoyment out of this." Clint flashed a smirk at Jennifer – who was standing next to Christophe with a shocked look on her face – before turning his attention to Pierre.

Pierre stared back for a couple seconds before cracking a smile. "Excellent idea!" he exclaimed and then turned to Jennifer. "Jennifer, why don't you join them?"

"O-oh, I-I don't think it's such a good idea," she stuttered.

"Nonsense!" Pierre exclaimed. "You don't have to engage with Julien and Oksana. You just have to watch."

"Exactly," Clint said in agreement.

"Or maybe just watch Madame Bouchard here," Christophe chimed in as he gestured towards Natasha. "You might get a kick out of watching her squirm."

As soon as Christophe mentioned Natasha, Clint saw an evil glint appear in Jennifer's eye. Clint knew Natasha was a sore subject for Jennifer, especially after she caught her with her husband. But now that she had the chance to make Natasha feel the way that she felt, she knew this was an opportunity she couldn't pass up.

With a shrug of her shoulders, Jennifer took another step back into the room. She glanced at her husband and brother-in-law from over her shoulder and flashed them a mischievous smirk.

"Well," Pierre said, breaking the silence. "You guys have fun. We will be in the casino if you need us."

With that, the Moreau brothers sauntered out of the room, shutting the door on their way out. Clint stared at the door and listened intently as Pierre and Christophe's footsteps disappeared down the hall. When he figured they were far enough away, Clint was at Natasha's side within seconds. He pulled at her restraints and freed her wrists and ankles.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Jennifer protested.

"Shut up!" Clint growled as Natasha stood up and pulled Clint in for a hug. Clint stiffened against her grasp before wrapping his own arms around her. This was unlike Natasha. She never showed this sort of affection in front of people, let alone on a mission like this. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said as she pulled away from him. "My back's kind of killing me. It didn't help that they injected me with a knock-out serum right at the base of my spine."

"Wait, what did they do?" Clint asked as his hand traveled to the small of her back. Through the sheer fabric of her beach cover-up, he could feel the knife wound scar from the mission in Rome.

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine," Natasha protested. "But we need to get out of here."

"Umm, excuse me!" Jennifer shouted. Clint and Natasha turned around to see Jennifer standing in the middle of the room with hands on her hips. "This wasn't exactly the plan, Julien."

With a sigh, Clint let go of Natasha and stepped towards Jennifer. Instinctively, Jennifer took a step back as her defensive façade started to crumble. While Natasha had been tied and bound to that chair, Jennifer was all high and mighty. Now that Clint had freed her, Jennifer didn't feel so powerful.

"Jennifer," Clint said softly. "We have to get out of here."

"No, you heard Pierre. You heard Christophe," Jennifer said.

This time, Natasha stepped forward, causing Jennifer to take another step backwards. "Olia," Natasha said softly.

Jennifer's eyes grew wide at the mention of her birth name, but Natasha knew this was the only way they could get out of this mess. They needed to win Jennifer over.

"H-how?" Jennifer stuttered.

"Now's not the time okay?" Natasha said. "The important thing that you should know is we are here to help you. We're here to make sure women like you don't go through the same thing."

Jennifer's eyes flitted furiously between Clint and Natasha. "Who are you people?" she hissed.

"We will tell you in time," Clint chimed in. "But for now, we need to get out of here."

"We can help you, Olia," Natasha interjected. "You won't have to keep living this life."

Jennifer stared at Clint and Natasha in awe. They knew it had to be a lot for her to take in all at once, but they needed her to trust them. It was going to be hard since Natasha had seduced her husband. But Jennifer was clearly in awe just over the fact that they knew her first name. In just that minor detail, Clint and Natasha had a feeling that they'd won over her trust.

Clint and Natasha saw Jennifer draw in a deep breath before slowly nodding her head. Clint and Natasha simply nodded back before springing into action. Clint crossed the room in three strides to comfort the still-trembling Oksana while Natasha started to search the room to find any sort of weapon to use for defense. She had been stupid enough to not carry a gun on her, but even if she had, Christophe and Jennifer probably would have confiscated it while she was unconscious anyways.

Unable to find anything to use as a weapon, Natasha gave up and turned back to Clint to see that he had finished speaking with Oksana.

"You know this place better than I do," Natasha said. "Lead the way."

"Nat," Clint said softly. "We'll get out of here, but we have to come back right away."

At first, Natasha was confused. Of course they needed to come back to take down Christophe and Pierre but she wasn't quite sure why they had to do it right away. In response, a whimper came from behind Clint and Natasha's eyes glanced to Oksana to see silent tears streaming down her face.

In the heat of the moment, Natasha had forgotten that hundreds of girls had been trafficked to work in this hotel for sexual activities. Oksana was just one of them. Beyond these walls, there had to be more and Clint and Natasha had to get them out.

Natasha nodded in understanding and then Clint headed towards the door. He cracked the door open and discreetly peered up and down the hall. After studying the hall for a couple minutes, he figured it was empty and gestured for Natasha, Jennifer, and Oksana to follow him. Natasha pointed in front of her to allow Jennifer and Oksana to go first. If someone snuck up on them from behind, at least Natasha would be able to defend them.

Stealthily they made their way down the hall. Both Clint and Natasha listened intently for any signs of anyone else making their way down the hall. Rounding the corner, they saw the end of the hallway with the exit. Clint glanced at Natasha from over his shoulder and she nodded back at him.

It was almost too good to be true as they made their way to the exit at the other end of the hall. They pushed on the bar to open the door and it swung open to reveal the plush lobby of Pierre Moreau's hotel. Looking both ways to check that Pierre, Christophe, or any of the men that worked for them weren't heading their way, he stepped out into the small alcove and held the door open for the women. They filed out one by one – Natasha being the last one – and stood behind Clint, waiting for the next move.

"Nat, we have to just go for it," Clint said as he turned around and looked Natasha in the eye. Natasha nodded in understanding. She just hoped Pierre and Christophe stayed in the casino until they left the hotel.

With a deep breath, Clint took a step towards the lobby and the three women followed. Natasha brought up the rear while Jennifer and Oksana walked side-by-side. Jennifer kept her head down while Oksana was still visibly trembling from head-to-toe. They crossed the lobby in silence and they were nearly out the door when Natasha noticed Pierre and Christophe crossing the lobby out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head away from the two men in hopes that they wouldn't notice her. But there was no way they wouldn't notice Natasha with her fiery red hair.

"Hey! Stop them!" Natasha heard one of the men yell.

"Go!" Natasha shouted and she started to shove Oksana and Jennifer through the door. They stumbled outside and then started to run full-speed down the sidewalk back to their hotel. From behind them, Natasha heard the commotion as both Christophe and Pierre clambered outside to chase them down, but after a couple blocks, Natasha glanced over her shoulder to find that no one was following them.

"Clint, we can slow down. They're not following us," Natasha said breathlessly. Clint nodded and grabbed the arms of Oksana and Jennifer to let them know they could slow down. They stopped dead on the sidewalk and the four of them bent over to catch their breaths. Silently, they stood on the sidewalk before walking the remaining distance to their hotel.

When they reached the hotel, they crossed the courtyard and entered the hotel lobby. Walking with their heads down, they crossed the lobby and loaded onto an elevator to go up to the third floor. The elevator shot straight up to the third floor and they exited the elevator to head to Clint and Natasha's suite. Clint whipped out his room key and slid it into the slot to gain access to the suite. He stepped aside to let the women in before joining them.

"Nat, suit up and grab the guns and my bow," Clint said as he chucked his key card onto the dresser. "We're heading out in 10 minutes."

"Wait!" Jennifer protested. "First, you have to tell me what is going on."

Natasha was already at the closet door while Clint had frozen in place, pulling off his tie. The two SHIELD agents glanced at one another from opposite ends of the room before turning their attention back to Jennifer.

"We're the good guys, Jennifer," Clint explained. "We're here to help you."

Jennifer turned to Natasha with tears close to spilling over. "Why do you want to help me after what I did to you?" she asked.

"Because you're not a bad person, Jennifer," Natasha said softly. "And neither is Oksana, or any of the hundreds of other girls your husband and brother-in-law trafficked from other countries. You're the victims."

"We're going to take them down," Clint interjected. "They need to be stopped."

As soon as Clint said this, a single tear rolled down Jennifer's cheek. "Thank you," she choked out.

"It's what we do," Clint said. With that, both him and Natasha sprang into action as they started to gear up. Clint ripped off his clothes just in time for Natasha to toss his suit to him from across the room. He quickly slipped into his suit and zipped it up. By the time he was finished, Natasha had appeared from around the corner with her suit on too. Two guns were strapped to the belt on her suit while two more were strapped to the holsters on her thighs. In one of her hands was Clint's bow, while her other held his quiver.

"Ready?" Natasha asked.

"Ready if you are," he responded.

"Been ready since we got here," Natasha said as she crossed the room and handed him his bow and quiver full of arrows.

Clint strapped the quiver across his chest and then turned to Jennifer. "Stay here until we get back," he ordered.

"But what if you don't come back?" she asked.

"We're good at what we do. We'll come back," Clint said. "In the meantime…" he trailed off as he strode over to Oksana. He gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her across the room to stand in front of Jennifer. "Olia, Oksana. Oksana, Olia," Clint said as he gestured between the two of them as an informal introduction. "Talk to each other," Clint said to Jennifer. "Keep each other company. Order room service and chat about your lives over dessert. Just do something to keep yourselves busy, but within the walls of this room. Got it?"

Jennifer nodded fervently, more tears threatening to spill over. "Be careful," she whispered.

"We will," Clint said and then he turned on his heel and marched out of the suite with Natasha on his heels. They let the door slam shut, letting the sound eerily echo down the hall as they mentally prepared themselves for another battle.

* * *

**Oh boy, here we go! They're heading back to take down the Moreaus. Think things will go according to plan? Or (like always) will shit hit the fan? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they help motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I am soooooooo sorry for not updating in like forever. Last week was crazy. I had like three exams and four papers to write so I couldn't fit in any writing for this. But I'm on spring break now so I'll hopefully be able to fit in some writing. So, without further ado, here is the next chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint and Natasha loaded onto the elevator, watching with sharp eyes as the elevator doors slid closed. The moment the elevator began its descent, Clint reached out and jammed his thumb on the emergency stop button. The elevator came to a sickening halt and an annoying buzzing noise filled the carriage. Natasha stepped forward and wrenched open the control box to yank apart the cords. Instantly, the buzzing noise stopped.

Turning back to her partner, she saw him pulling out his phone to contact SHIELD. If this mission went wrong, they were going to need backup and an extraction. They couldn't have a repeat of the Rome incident. That was the last thing they needed at the moment.

Clint pressed the corresponding number on his speed dial for SHIELD and put the phone on speaker so Natasha could be a part of the conversation as well. They listened as the phone rang twice before a strange crackling was emitted from the device. The sound ceased as a gruff voice from the other end answered the call.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, New York base," the voice said.

"This is Hawkeye and Black Widow from Strike Team Delta," Clint announced. "We are on mission number 0009867 in Monaco. We are about to take out our target and we will need an evacuation team on stand-by."

There was a small amount of silence on the other end, but Natasha could hear the person furiously typing away, most likely to check out the information on Clint and Natasha's mission for confirmation.

"Please hold," the voice said. "I will be transferring you to Director Fury."

Before Clint and Natasha could even respond, a dial tone buzzed back at them from Clint's phone before it started to ring again. It rang twice before Nick Fury's rough voice grumbled from the other end. "Hawkeye, Widow, status?" he asked.

"We're about to go in and take down the Moreaus. Black Widow had been taken hostage at some point during the day and we escaped about a half hour ago with a girl who had been trafficked from Russia and Christophe Moreau's wife, Jennifer," Clint recanted. "Jennifer and the girl are in our hotel room and Black Widow and I are currently in the elevator to our hotel."

"What's the plan, Hawkeye?" Fury asked.

"We'll go in and evacuate the girls first," Natasha chimed in. "Once they're safe, we'll take down the Moreaus."

Clint glanced up at Natasha and nodded. He didn't even have to talk to her about it. Both of them just knew that getting those girls out first was the right thing to do. Once they were safe, they could take down the Moreaus without batting an eyelash.

"We'll send in a rescue team to recover the girls once you get them out safely," Fury said. "Then we'll have an extraction point for you and a medical team on stand-by. Just keep your comms turned on and connected to our frequency."

In response, Clint pulled their comms out of a pocket on his suit and then passed one to Natasha. They both pressed them firmly into their ears before turning their attention back to the phone to confirm that their comms were in.

"Take them down, Strike Team Delta," Fury said. "Good luck." With that, the call was disconnected. Clint locked his phone's screen and then turned back to the panel of buttons to resume the elevator's descent. The elevator lurched as it began its descent to the ground floor. Natasha took her place next to Clint and kept her eyes glued to the screen as the numbers changed as the elevator continued its descent.

Just as they were about to reach the lobby, Natasha took a deep breath but kept her eyes glued to the glowing red numbers. "I think I saw an alternate entrance," she said. "Take a right instead of a left."

Clint turned to face Natasha but her eyes were still glued on the numbers. "We'll take him down, Nat," he said. "He's not going to keep doing this."

Natasha nodded. "I know," she sighed. "I just want this to be over."

At that moment, the elevator reached the lobby and the doors slid open. Luckily, there was no one waiting for the elevator so Clint and Natasha were able to slip out without drawing any attention to themselves. They sprinted down the hall to the emergency exit. Quickly, Clint disabled the alarm and they both slipped through the door unnoticed.

The smell of the ocean and a light breeze greeted the pair as they stepped outside. They glanced around at their surroundings before heading down the alleyway. Sticking to the shadows was their only hope of having the element of surprise on their side. The Moreaus had to be on high alert right now. Clint had betrayed them and there was no way they'd let that go.

Clint and Natasha rounded a corner and picked up their pace to a jog. As they traveled through the alleys, they could hear the crash of the waves and the sound of laughter travel through the wind. The residents of Monaco were so carefree, completely unaware of their surroundings. There was no chance that they'd know the girls of Pierre's hotel and casino were trafficked, unless they'd been taken to the back rooms to have their ways with them. Other than that, they didn't know a thing.

Clint and Natasha slowed their pace when they rounded another corner and found themselves outside a backdoor entrance of Pierre's hotel and casino. Outside of the door were three burly men that Clint and Natasha could only assume were part of the Moreau's personal security team. Even though they were shrouded in darkness, Clint and Natasha ducked behind a dumpster for refuge. They needed a plan to get in that door without being noticed and without making a scene.

Natasha peeked around the side of the dumpster to get a view of their surroundings. From where they were positioned, they were pretty concealed by the darkness. If they were to stage an attack, the three security guards wouldn't be able to tell where it was coming from. There was a small light on the side of the building and it illuminated a small radius from the building. Positioned about a foot above the light was a security camera and judging by the red light next to the lens, it was on and recording.

They didn't want to draw attention to themselves. That would only make their job worse. But Natasha had one of the most talented marksman as a partner. Pulling back and turning to her partner, she had a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Think you can knock that security camera out?" she asked sarcastically.

Clint smirked back before pulling out his collapsible bow. He jerked it forward and the bow sprang into place. He reached behind him to grab a regular arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and then slowly rose from his position to survey his surroundings. He quickly scanned the landscape before his eyes traveled up the side of the building and landed on the security camera. Clint smirked to himself as he pulled the bowstring back and aimed the arrow at the camera.

With a deep breath, Clint released the arrow and it lodged itself into the camera's lens. There was a shattering sound as the lens broke and several broken pieces fell to the ground. The three security guards immediately ceased all chatter as they eyed the glass on the ground. They glanced up at the security camera to see Clint's arrow lodged in the lens.

"Take them out," Natasha whispered as she peered over the edge of the dumpster. Clint obeyed. He reached behind him and pulled another arrow out of his quiver. He nocked it then released it, sending it streaking through the air to the closest security guard. The arrow embedded itself in the man's temple and he fell in a heap on the ground.

The other two guards didn't have time to react for Clint nocked two more arrows in rapid succession and released them towards the men. Both of them landed with a thud on the hard ground, unmoving and lifeless.

Natasha chuckled to herself as she stood up straight and walked out from behind the dumpster. "Still got it," she said as she strolled forward to begin searching the men.

"Never lost it. You trying to tell me something?" he joked.

Natasha just chuckled to herself as she searched the lifeless men on the ground. She found a couple guns, as well as key cards to gain access to the building. She checked the guns to make sure they were loaded while Clint gathered up his arrows and cleaned them off. When their weapons were restocked, Natasha grabbed the key card and headed towards the door. She glanced back at Clint and he gave her a reassuring nod as he nocked an arrow, preparing for any kind of attack coming from the other side of the door.

Natasha reached out and swiped the card on the keypad and she heard a click as the door unlocked. Slowly she pulled it open and Clint pulled back his bowstring, ready to strike if there was an attack. After a couple seconds, Clint relaxed his bowstring but kept the arrow nocked just in case.

"After you," he said. Natasha nodded and quickly cocked her gun before stepping into the building. She felt Clint's presence behind her as he stepped inside the building and shut the door.

"Where do they keep the girls?" Natasha hissed in the silent and vast hallway.

"I think we're at the other end of the hotel," Clint said. "But from where we are, we can get there using this hallway."

Natasha nodded before turning back to face forward and head down the hall. Eerily, their footsteps echoed with every step they took. With each step they took down the hall, they glanced over their shoulders in hopes that no one was following them. They followed the bland white hallway as it wound its way through the guts of the hotel. Every corner they turned, they were on high alert. They always peeked around the corner first before continuing down the hallway.

It wasn't long until they reached the section of the building where the girls were housed. Clint didn't even need to tell her that they'd reached that part of the hotel because Natasha could tell by the sounds of crying from the other sides of the wall. When she reached the outside of a door, she pointed to it as she glanced over at Clint. He nodded solemnly and then stoically watched as she turned the handle to open the door.

She stepped into the room and saw several girls scamper to hide in the corners and under beds. Many of them trembled from head to toe as they were curled up on their beds. It looked like something out of the Red Room. Rows of beds lined the walls with old sheets and blankets to keep warm. Several girls were wearing old and ratty clothing and the room looked like it hadn't been cleaned in over a year.

As she inspected the room, she felt her stomach do a somersault. This was better than the Red Room, but it was too familiar. It made Natasha sick to her stomach. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and she whipped around, ready to attack. Her gun was in her hand, her finger ready to pull the trigger, when she saw the shocked eyes of her partner staring back at her.

"Nat, it's just me," he said quietly. "Sorry, I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that."

Natasha sighed as her grip on the gun slackened and her shoulders slumped forward. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Reassuringly, Clint grabbed her by the shoulders and straightened her up so that she was looking him in the eye. "We're going to get them out of here," he said. "Let me take care of them. They've seen me before. They know who I am."

Natasha stared into Clint's blue-grey eyes before nodding solemnly. Clint dropped his hands from Natasha's shoulders before taking a deep breath and stepping forward to address the girls. Natasha turned away and stepped towards the door to keep an eye out for any passersby. Natasha listened as Clint addressed the girls in Russian and then Ukrainian. The fact that the girls were calm as he spoke to them made Natasha smile. They trusted him, or at least they knew enough to know that he wasn't going to hurt them the way that Pierre and Christophe do.

When Clint finished talking, there was a sudden rustling of fabric and the scraping of bed frames across the floor. Natasha turned around to find the girls gathering up whatever belongings they still owned. Some girls pulled out extra sets of clothing while others pulled out teddy bears or small blankets. Whatever they still owned, they were taking with them.

"Tasha," Clint's rough voice said from her side. She turned to him to see that he was standing a couple feet away from her. He was a smart guy. He knew she was easily spooked, especially right now when all of this felt so familiar to her, so he knew he should stand back. "I just let Fury know we've found the girls. They have a rescue team coming in. They're going to meet us outback once they've secured the area."

Natasha nodded in understanding. She didn't quite know what to say. Right now, she was paralyzed with fear, but once these girls were taken to safety, her adrenaline will kick in and she'll be able to focus on taking down the Moreaus. That's all she wanted was for these bastards to pay, once and for all.

Suddenly, several of the girls lined up next to Clint, clearly ready to go. Clint quickly tapped into the comms with the rescue team and Natasha heard them respond with an affirmative that the area was secure. Clint turned back to the girls and announced that the rescue team had arrived and that they were going to head out.

"Tell them that they need to stay calm and quiet, too," Natasha added. Clint nodded and repeated the instructions to the girls. They chanted their responses before Clint beckoned for them to follow him.

They filed out of the room behind Clint, one-by-one, until the final girl left the room so Natasha could bring up the rear. Though they had to move stealthily throughout the halls, they still moved at a swift pace that echoed and bounced off of the walls. It wasn't long until they reached the entrance that Clint and Natasha had used to enter the hotel. They poured out of the door and into the alleyway to meet up with the leader of the rescue team. Clint and Natasha both nodded to the leader of the team as he shepherded the girls down the alley to safety. Once they were all out of sight, the leader of the rescue team muttered a "good luck" to Clint and Natasha before disappearing in the dark as well.

Clint and Natasha stood in the silent night, wondering if this was all a dream. They wondered if this was actually real, if they actually got these girls to safety. It felt so strange that they'd gotten this far. But it was far from over. Both Clint and Natasha sighed as they turned on their heels and stepped back into the building. The moment the door shut behind them, the lights flicked off and the pair was plunged into darkness.

Immediately, Natasha whipped out her gun while Clint loaded his bow with an arrow. They couldn't see a damn thing but it was better to be prepared for an attack than to not be ready at all. Suddenly, the emergency backup lights kicked on and dimly illuminated the hallway. Luckily, the hallway was empty but Clint and Natasha knew that this wasn't just some random blackout. The Moreaus had cut the power for the building and they knew Clint and Natasha were here.

The thought of the Moreaus knowing about Clint and Natasha's presence put a smile on Natasha's face. She grabbed another gun from her holster, cocked it, and then turned to her partner. With a mischievous grin on her face, she purred, "Showtime."

* * *

**Uh oh, the Moreaus know Clint and Natasha are there. Things are about to get crazy! Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they help motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**

**(Oh, and P.S. if you read my _The Town_ fic, _Born To Die_, it was updated a couple weeks ago and I haven't gotten any reviews for that chapter. This site has been acting strange in the past month so please check it out. I want to know what you think of the chapter and where the story's headed. You might not get another update if you don't review ;). Muahahaha!)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Alright, we've got some craziness this chapter. I'm just going to cut right to the chase and tell you guys to enjoy!**

* * *

Slowly but surely, Clint and Natasha weaved their way down the hall to find their targets. Normally they would take this at a slow pace, peering around corners with their weapons at the ready to shoot. But now, they just wanted to take down the Moreaus. That was their main focus at the moment and anyone that got in their way would suffer.

As they turned another corner, they found themselves in the same hallway that was home to the rooms for customers, as well as Pierre's office. The hall was eerily quiet and calm, and Clint and Natasha wondered if this was a trap. It wouldn't be the first time they'd been tricked and they knew it wouldn't be their last. They may be good, but sometimes you couldn't avoid the inevitable.

"Check all the rooms," Clint said as he forcefully kicked one of the doors in and stomped in with his bow loaded. Natasha complied and forced open the door on the other side of the hall, her guns pointed ahead of her. The room was empty but in completely disarray. Clearly someone left in a hurry and that was what convinced Natasha that they hadn't gotten all of the girls out.

"Clint," Natasha said shakily. "I think they have some of the girls."

Breathlessly, Clint sauntered into the room to see the disaster. He took in his surroundings and then turned to Natasha. "The other room looked like this too," he said. "They may be trying to throw us off."

"But Nat," Clint continued. He stepped in front of Natasha and placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "If they have some of the girls, we'll get them out and get them to safety. For now, we have to find Pierre and Christophe. They're our main priority now."

Natasha nodded solemnly and then turned on her heel to head back out to the dimly lit hallway. Clint followed a couple steps behind her to continue checking the rooms. They followed the hall to the next set of doors, to which they forced down and checked for any inhabitants before moving onto the next ones.

When all of the rooms were clear, the only room that remained was Pierre's office. Both Clint and Natasha knew there wasn't a chance of neither Pierre nor Christophe being in the office. They'd practically be surrendering themselves right then and there. But Clint and Natasha knew it was worth a shot. And since they knew Pierre and Christophe wouldn't be in there, the few moments alone in the office gave them a chance to ransack it for any important materials.

Natasha insisted on busting down the door because she claimed she needed to take her rage out on something. Her boot connected with the white door – leaving a prominent boot print smack dab in the middle – and it flew open to reveal an empty office. Hesitantly, Clint and Natasha strolled into the office and checked the corners and any other obvious hiding places before lowering the weapons to search the room.

They weren't quite sure what they were looking for but working for SHIELD meant that they had to be thorough. They rummaged through desk drawers and filing cabinets, only to find nothing of importance. Clint knew they kept files on the girls because he was the one who filled them out. But at the end of the day, Clint usually turned them into Pierre, and from there, Clint didn't know what he did with them.

"Find anything?" Natasha asked as she rooted through Pierre's desk one more time.

"Nothing," Clint said. "All I have here are bank statements for the hotel's account and some old _Playboys_."

"Fucking pigs," Natasha spat as she slammed one of the drawers and stood up. She snatched her guns off of the desk. She strolled around the front of the desk but stopped when she heard a strange squeaking sound. She paced around the floor until she heard it again. Standing on top of a plush red rug, she eyed the floor until she crouched down and whipped the rug aside to reveal a small hatch.

"Clint, I think I found the manifesto," Natasha announced.

Clint stopped what he was doing and walked around to the front of the desk. His eyes widened at the sight of the hatch and then crouched down across from Natasha. "It's been right under me this entire time!" he exclaimed. He reached out and pulled the lid to the hatch to reveal the folders to the manifesto of trafficked women working in the hotel and casino.

Gingerly, he pulled out the folder and absentmindedly flipped through it before slamming it shut. He tucked it away beneath his vest before Natasha could protest. "You don't need to see it, Tasha," he said before she could even say a word. With a sigh, he stood up and grabbed his bow. He reloaded an arrow and then waltzed towards the door. "Let's go find these bastards."

Natasha smirked at her partner and then stood up. She checked both of her guns once more and then joined Clint over in the doorway. With a nod, they filed out of the office and headed down the hall towards the door that led out to the lobby of the hotel. They stopped just a couple feet in front of the door before pushing on the metal bar to push it open.

The moment they pushed the door open, an ear-splitting alarm reverberated throughout the hotel. Clint and Natasha froze in the small hallway outside of the door to take in their surroundings. The lobby was surprisingly empty. No patrons and staff were around so the Moreaus must have evacuated them while Clint and Natasha were evacuating the girls and searching the rooms.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Natasha noticed movement from around the entrance of the hotel's casino. Narrowing her eyes to slits, she saw the movement again. The man poked his head out from behind an armchair before swinging his arm above his head to toss a grenade in Clint and Natasha's direction.

Natasha sprang into action as she grabbed her partner's arm and dragged him towards the check in desk. They ducked behind it for cover just in time as the grenade exploded right where they'd been standing before. Bits of carpet and plaster rained down on them, but other than that they were unharmed.

"Mother fucker!" Clint shouted as he fumbled with his bow.

Natasha put a hand over Clint's as he fumbled to reload an arrow. He stopped what he was doing when he noticed Natasha's tiny hand on top of his and raised his head to meet her gaze. "We need to fight fire with fire, Barton," she said as she arched an eyebrow at him.

It took a couple seconds for Clint to process what she meant. When he finally understood, he smirked at his red-headed partner and then reached behind him to retrieve another arrow from his quiver. He loaded it into his bow and then turned back to Natasha. She nodded at Clint as if to tell him to go ahead with the plan.

Subtly, Clint peeked out from behind the check in desk. From what he could tell, several of Moreau's men were stationed around the lobby, hiding behind furniture and pillars. They were scattered throughout the lobby but if Clint hit the right spot, he could target them all at once. He ducked back down behind the counter to load his arrow properly before taking a deep breath and jumping up to fire.

He sent the arrow flying into the middle of a sitting area in the lobby before ducking behind the counter once again to shield his partner's body with his. At the same time, he clicked a button on his bow, causing the arrow to explode. The ground beneath them trembled and the desk shook from behind them. Screams of terror and pain were heard from behind them as the explosion rocked the building.

When the explosion subsided, Clint pulled away from Natasha and the red-head sat up. They glanced above them to find nothing but smoke and dust filtering through the air. Cautiously, both Clint and Natasha peeked over the counter to find the lobby in disarray. Several pieces of furniture were on fire while some of Moreau's men lay dead in the room. However, a few were still alive as they coughed to clear the dust and smoke from their lungs.

"Go, Nat," Clint said as he noticed some of the men that were still standing. Natasha turned to Clint and smirked at him before jumping over the counter to venture into the warzone.

Carefully, Natasha stepped past flaming debris and dead bodies as she scoped out the surviving attackers. Now that Clint and Natasha had retaliated, clearly Moreau's men weren't going to attack them without regrouping. But since they were all split up, it didn't seem like that would be happening anytime soon.

"Nat, there's one at your 2 o'clock," Natasha heard Clint say through their comms. "Behind the paisley love seat."

Natasha's eyes darted to the position Clint had described. She didn't see the man but she didn't doubt Clint's skill. He wasn't called Hawkeye for nothing.

She tip toed towards the love seat, keeping an eye out for any sudden movement. She pulled one of her guns out from her holster as she neared the love seat. She was a couple steps away from the love seat when she heard a small thud from behind her. She turned around to find a grenade positioned right at her feet. She kicked the object away and ducked behind an overturned coffee table just in time for the grenade to explode in the distance.

"What the fuck are we dealing with?" Natasha snapped as she shielded herself from more flying debris.

"Fucking guerilla warfare," Clint snarled through their comms.

"This is bullshit," Natasha growled. As she pulled her arms away from shielding herself, she noticed movement at the other end of the sitting area. She thought it could just be the smoke messing with her vision but there was no mistaking the black combat gear.

Keeping low to the ground, Natasha crawled towards the armchair where the man took shelter. She kept low to the floor until she finally reached the arm chair. She jumped up and knocked the armchair over to lure the man out from behind his shield. The man scampered but he was too slow for Natasha. She grabbed him by the shirt and tossed him on the ground. She gave a swift kick to the man's side, but he grabbed her leg and pulled her to the ground.

Natasha groaned as she landed on her back and pain shot up her back from its epicenter, which just so happened to be at the base of her spine. She knew her injury would come back to bite her in the ass. But she had to power through it. She couldn't let the Moreaus get away with this.

She pulled her legs backwards and then sprung herself up onto her feet. The man had already taken shelter behind another piece of furniture and was far out of sight. Natasha was back at square one.

"Shit!" she heard Clint cuss through their comms. Suddenly, she heard a loud thud from behind her and whipped around to find one of the men lying on the ground with an arrow protruding from his eye socket.

"Well thanks," Natasha said.

"No problem," Clint said. Natasha could almost hear the smirk on his face with his reply. "Another on your left, Tasha. Ten o'clock."

Natasha whipped around to see someone ducking behind an overturned end table, which didn't exactly shield all of his body. She sprinted to the end table and grabbed it from the floor to reveal a man dressed in similar black combat gear. He jumped up – wielding a knife and a grimace – as he swiped at Natasha with the knife. Natasha stepped backwards to dodge the knife before swinging the end table around to hit the man in the side of the head. The man was out cold before he even hit the ground, his knife clattering to the floor a couple feet away from him.

"Where else, Hawk?" Natasha asked breathlessly. The pain was still shooting up and down her spine and it was a little more prominent now, but she had to keep going. She couldn't let Clint know that she was in pain. He would abandon the mission immediately just to get her help. Natasha knew he cared, but sometimes he cared way too much. Right now, the mission was more important than her stupid back problems.

"I think there's one more on your right. Three o'clock," Clint responded.

Natasha turned on her heel to find the first man she'd approached hiding behind the coffee table she'd taken refuge behind when the grenade had been thrown at her. Stealthily, Natasha made her way over to the man taking cover behind the coffee table. When she was directly behind the coffee table, she peered over the edge to find the man's back facing her. With a smirk, Natasha reached forward and grabbed him by the hair. The man yelped as Natasha pulled him into the air and then tossed him like a ragdoll.

"Where are Pierre and Christophe?" Natasha growled as she quickly pulled one of her guns from their holster then aimed it at the man's genitals in one swift move.

"_Casse-toi!_" the man sputtered. (_Fuck off!_)

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him before positioning her gun elsewhere and firing one shot into his knee. The man howled in pain as he clutched his knee. He wasn't paying attention as Natasha crouched down and aimed the barrel of her gun at his forehead.

"I'll ask again," Natasha purred. "Where are Pierre and Christophe?" The man swallowed nervously as he stared back at Natasha with wide eyes. "Are they in the casino?" Natasha continued. "I'm being nice here. I'm giving you choices."

"They have the kid," the man responded with a heavy French accent.

Natasha furrowed her brow before pressing the gun further into the man's forehead. "What kid?" Natasha asked through clenched teeth.

"The wife's kid," the man whimpered. "Jacques."

Natasha felt all the blood drain from her body at the mentioning of Jennifer's little boy. The Moreaus were hiding behind their own kin. They were good, though. Of course Natasha and Clint wouldn't attack them if Jacques was involved. But now, there was a third party involved. Natasha and Clint had to get Jacques out safely before they even attacked Pierre and Christophe.

"Where are they?" Natasha growled, pressing the gun further into the man's forehead. She knew with the amount of pressure she was applying, there had to be at least a permanent imprint on the man's forehead by now.

"_Dans le casino_," he spat back. (_In the casino_.)

Natasha nodded at the man before pulling her gun away from him. The man barely had time to let out a sigh of relief before Natasha landed a swift left hook to his face, knocking him out cold.

"Clint, they have Jacques with them, Christophe's son," Natasha said into their comms. "They're in the casino."

"Fuck," Clint cussed. "This is messed up. I think we've got all of the guys though. You think they'll be armed or do you think this was it?"

"I think this was it," Natasha sighed. "They're hiding behind Jacques for sure. They know we won't attack if he's there."

"Right," Clint said from Natasha's right, causing her to jump. Clint flinched as he stepped away from his partner to protect himself from any random blows. "Sorry," he apologized. "Think they're just in there waiting for us?"

"Only one way to find out," Natasha said as she took a step in the direction of the casino. Clint watched for a couple seconds as Natasha stepped forward with a slight limp in her step. The last time she limped like that was almost two months ago while she was in recovery mode from her knife wound. Being flipped onto her back had to make it hurt again. Clint desperately wanted to say something but he knew it would only anger Natasha. He would just have to keep an eye on her. Clint slung his bow across his chest before he sped up to keep up with Natasha.

Silently, they made their way into the casino to find the Moreaus. It was eerie to see the casino completely deserted. What was once a carnival for adults was now a desolate wasteland with overturned chairs and scattered decks of cards and playing chips.

Luckily, the Moreaus weren't hiding. Then again, Clint and Natasha didn't expect them to be. Instead, they were stationed in the middle of the casino at a blackjack table. Jacques was seated in a chair with his back facing Clint and Natasha, while Pierre and Christophe were seated on the other side of the table. Literally, Jacques was their shield.

The family of three hadn't noticed Clint and Natasha, and Clint and Natasha figured that was on purpose. Jacques was giggling as he watched his uncle and his father build a house of cards for his entertainment. When the structure decided to cave in upon itself, Pierre and Christophe feigned disappointment while Jacques giggled with delight. By that time, Clint and Natasha had made it to the table and Pierre and Christophe acknowledged their presence.

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Bouchard!" Pierre announced. "How lovely to see you!"

"Cut the shit, Pierre," Natasha snapped.

"Oh, that's no way to greet someone. _Tsk tsk_, Julien, what have you been teaching your wife?" Pierre mused.

"Stop playing around," Clint snapped. "You know we're not the Bouchards."

A mischievous grin spread across Pierre's face. "You're right. You're not the Bouchards," Pierre said. "In fact, you're not even married. You're not from Paris. You're not even from Europe." Pierre rose from his chair and strolled around to the front. He leaned up against the blackjack table next to Jacques and crossed his arms over his chest. "You are, in fact, SHIELD agents. Hawkeye and Black Widow, to be exact."

Natasha narrowed her eyes to slits as Clint furrowed his brow in confusion. "So you knew this entire time?" Clint asked.

"Oh no!" Pierre exclaimed. "Actually, I had an inkling. Little Red over there looked familiar but I didn't think it could be _her_. But when I saw the security camera for out back go dark, I knew it had to be you two."

"What the hell are you playing at?" Natasha snapped. "You let us take the trafficked women to safety. You let us destroy your hotel. And now you're just standing here to talk to us?"

"Oh trust me," Pierre drawled as he uncrossed his arms and waltzed back to the other side of the table to sit down next to Christophe. "There's a purpose for this. And it's to let you know we're walking out of here alive and with Jacques."

"You're not taking him anywhere!" Clint snapped.

"Oh, I'm not?" Christophe chimed in. "You took my wife, so I'm going to take her son."

"_Her_ son? He's your son too, you know," Natasha spat.

"No, you see, he's not," Christophe said. At that moment, Jacques' head snapped up and his eyes widened at Christophe. Christophe hadn't even noticed Jacques staring at him because his gaze was locked on Clint and Natasha. "Do you want to know why Jennifer and I were fighting that day you just so happened to 'drop by?'" Christophe asked with a sly grin on his face.

"Why?" Natasha snarled.

"Well, it came to my attention that Jacques isn't my son," Christophe admitted.

"_Quoi!?_" the three-year-old cried from his chair. (_What!?_)

"Quiet!" Christophe spat at the child and Jacques shrank back in his chair. "You see, Jennifer was a naughty girl when we got married. She didn't exactly like me, and to tell you the truth, I didn't exactly like her. So, she snuck out a lot, sometimes to this hotel, to meet men.

"One night, she wandered back to the rooms and met someone. One thing led to another and nine months later, Jacques was born," Christophe explained.

Clint and Natasha stared at the Moreau's in awe before shifting their gaze to the small child in the seat in front of them. This kid was just as much of a victim as Jennifer and the rest of the girls. And now, the worst part of it was that they may not be able to help him.

"So you're just going to let us on our merry way," Pierre said as he rose from his chair. Christophe did the same as well, keeping his eyes trained on Clint and Natasha. "If Jennifer wants to go to your side, then Jacques is staying on ours. An eye for an eye."

Natasha shook her head in disgust. "I hate men," she spat before she pulled out one of her guns, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Pierre and Christophe dove out of the way while Clint stumbled forward and snatched Jacques from his chair. Clint and Natasha retreated a couple feet back before knocking over one of the blackjack tables for shelter. They took refuge behind the table as they caught their breaths.

"The next time you do that, tell me first so I can get the damn kid to safety," Clint said. Natasha shrugged her shoulders, as if she didn't care about the decision that she made. Without saying another word to Natasha, Clint switched his comm's frequency to the rescue team to inform them that they had one more person that needed extraction.

While Clint debated with the rescue team on an extraction point for Jacques, Natasha kept her eye on Christophe and Pierre. They were currently taking refuge behind an overturned blackjack table and now Natasha was just waiting for their next move.

"We're going to drop off Jacques out front in the courtyard," Clint said. "Let's just hope if they make a move, it ends up that way."

"Yeah, well, we'll see," Natasha growled as she saw Christophe's foot twitch from behind the overturned blackjack table.

They spent several minutes like that, both parties ducked behind their respective shelters, waiting for the other to make a move. Natasha's gun was loaded and her finger was on the trigger in case either of the Moreau's made a move. But neither one of the Moreau brothers made a move. Instead, an attack from Clint and Natasha's exposed side was what happened. After several minutes of waiting for a move, a grenade fell right at Clint's feet. The archer kicked it away before he dove out of the way for additional cover. Natasha grabbed Jacques and dove in a different direction just in time for the grenade to go off.

Jacques let out a shriek as the grenade exploded and rocked the building. Natasha shielded the child with her body as she waited for the explosion to finish. When all was calm and quiet, she lifted her head and squinted through the dust and debris to see movement.

Her eyes widened as she noticed Pierre and Christophe making a run for it.

* * *

**Uh oh, Christophe and Pierre are making a run for it! It isn't over yet! Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey everyone! I hope you like this chapter. If any of you watch the show _Nikita_ (starring Maggie Q), part of this may seem may familiar. Enjoy!**

* * *

For a split second, Natasha was convinced that the mission was a failure. Even though Jacques was out of their grasp and Jennifer was in their room back at their hotel, Natasha was thoroughly convinced that they'd failed this mission. If Pierre and Christophe weren't stopped, the two men would continue doing this no matter what.

But that feeling was only for a second. She let it pass before focusing on her partner taking cover on the other side of the room. She saw him cough to clear his lungs of the dust and debris before jumping up and taking off towards Christophe and Pierre.

"Clint, what are you doing!?" Natasha shouted.

"Get Jacques to the rendez-vous point, dammit!" Clint shouted back as he sprinted from the room, hot on Pierre and Christophe's heels. He knew Natasha wouldn't follow him. She had Jacques with her after all. But he knew by the end of this mission, she would be beyond pissed at him.

But Clint shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind as he raced across the destroyed lobby, in pursuit of Christophe and Pierre. He saw them loading onto the elevators and he ran full speed in hopes of catching up with them. Unfortunately, just as Clint made it to the elevators, the doors slid shut and he angrily slammed his fist on the doors. He took a step back to glance at where the elevator was headed and he quickly made a dash to the stairwell to head downstairs.

Clint practically flew down the stairs as he raced the elevator to the next level. Clint knew exactly where they were going and that's why he knew he had to hurry. If he didn't make it down there soon, he could quite possibly lose them and then this mission would be a failure.

Stomping down the final stairs, Clint burst through the door that led to the underground garage. Looking around wildly, Clint spotted Pierre and Christophe at the other end of the garage, hopping into a sleek black Mercedes. Determined to not let them get away, Clint sprinted to the nearest car and broke its driver's side window. He unlocked the door and opened it before sliding into the seat. He clawed at the materials below the steering wheel until he pulled it apart to reveal a tangle of wires. Clint quickly searched for the set that he needed to hotwire the car and immediately started to press them together.

It took a couple tries but the engine finally revved to life. By that time, Pierre and Christophe were at the garage's exit and almost out of Clint's sight. Clint revved the engine before swiftly pulling out of the parking spot and racing towards the exit. Clint watched as the speedometer jumped from zero to 80 in less than two seconds and he barreled through the exit.

Emerging from the garage, Clint cut the wheel sharply to the right and floored the accelerator as he continued his pursuit for Pierre and Christophe. As he rounded the corner to the front of the hotel, he noticed Natasha's fiery red hair. He could see she was pissed. Her arms were folded across her chest and her face was formed in a pout. He knew she was mad that he was having all the fun.

Quickly, Clint rolled down the window and slowed the car to a crawl in front of Natasha. "Through the window and hurry!" he barked.

A smile instantly spread across her face as her lithe body sailed through the window. As soon as Natasha's whole body was in the car, Clint stepped on the accelerator once again so he could catch up with Pierre and Christophe.

The car sped through the night. The engine roared and the wind whipped through the broken window on the driver's side. Within seconds, they'd caught up with Pierre and Christophe. They were several feet behind them and Clint stepped on the accelerator even more to go bumper-to-bumper with them.

"Ram them," Natasha ordered, her eyes fixated on the car in front of them. Without looking at his partner, Clint smirked and stepped on the accelerator more and the car jerked forward to collide with their enemy's car. The black Mercedes jolted forward slightly, but there was no retaliation from the Moreaus. Instead, the car raced forward but Clint was right on their tail as he stepped on the accelerator.

The Moreaus couldn't go far. Monaco was a small city and getting out of the principality would require passports, something Clint assumed neither Pierre nor Christophe had on their person. But if for some reason they were able to escape the principality, Clint and Natasha would lose them. They had to stay on their tail and stop them before it was too late.

"Fuck this," Natasha spat as she grabbed one of her guns from their holster and rolled the passenger side window down.

"Nat, what the hell are you doing?" Clint yelled as his partner climbed out the window. Half of her body was still in the car, her legs gripping part of the seat to keep her steady. But Natasha's most vulnerable body parts were hanging out of the window. She had a stone cold glare plastered across her face as she aimed her gun low to the ground. Natasha squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times at the Mercedes' tires, but to no success.

"Shit!" Clint heard her cuss before she tossed her gun back into the car. He saw her pull another one of her guns from her holsters before cocking it and aiming it at the Mercedes again. She fired two more shots at the car to no avail until Natasha noticed the passenger side window of the Mercedes roll down. She narrowed her eyes to slits until she noticed one of the men hang their arm out the window. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gun and she tumbled back in the car just in time to dodge a bullet.

A few more shots were fired and Clint swerved to dodge them. "He's done," Natasha said as she saw either Pierre or Christophe's arm return to the inside of the vehicle.

"Good," Clint drawled as he pulled back into the proper lane and stepped on the accelerator. He pulled the car up to the bumper of Pierre and Christophe's car as both cars raced down the road.

As they sped through the streets of Monaco, Natasha watched as they passed road sign after road sign. They turned onto another street and Natasha's eyes widened. "Clint, we're coming up on the hairpin turn," Natasha hissed.

Without saying a word, Clint pressed his foot down on the accelerator even more, ramming into the bumper of Pierre and Christophe's car.

"Clint, what are you doing?" Natasha asked, raising her voice.

Once more, Clint rammed the bumper of the car into the Mercedes and the black car swerved slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw one of the men's arms hang out the side of the car but it immediately retracted after dropping something on the ground. She saw the small object bounce against the pavement and roll along the road towards Clint and Natasha's car.

"Shit!" Natasha cussed as she quickly whipped out her gun and aimed it at the Mercedes. She only had one shot. She needed to take out one of their tires because the grenade they threw at them was about to blow.

Just as Natasha pulled the trigger, she heard the grenade explode and the back end of the car was flipped up into the air. Natasha gripped the seat and the handle above the window as hard as possible as the car flipped through the air before landing upside down with a crash on the pavement.

The moment the car skidded to a halt on its roof, Natasha let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding as she released her grip on her seat. Her head was spinning and she could feel a wetness seeping down the side of her face. Slowly, she lowered herself down onto the shattered glass and glanced over at her partner. In the faint light, she could see he was okay, breathing and conscious, but he was nervously squirming against his seatbelt restraint. Leave it up to Clint to put his seatbelt on in a high speed chase.

"Clint, are you all right?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah," he answered. "But I think my leg is stuck."

Natasha squirmed in the crushed car so that she was directly underneath Clint. She grabbed his left thigh and tugged but his leg wouldn't budge.

"Nat," Clint breathed. "Go."

"What?"

"Their car…it's over there," Clint said as he nodded in the direction he was referring to. Natasha craned her neck to find the black Mercedes upside down as well several feet down the road right before the hairpin turn.

"There's no way they've gotten out," Clint whispered. "Go."

Natasha nodded before inching her way out of the crushed car and rolling onto the pavement. She scrambled to her feet and felt her body sway to the side. Her world was spinning but she stumbled forward towards the car.

As she stumbled forward, she could feel the base of her spine throbbing. Maybe she'd been thrown back into the field too early. Or maybe she'd taken too many hits today. Either way, her back hurt like hell. But, of course, she ignored it. The mission was her main priority right now. She'll worry about her back when it was over.

It took her a few seconds longer to reach the Moreaus' car than if she was uninjured, but she made it nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, Natasha bent at the waist to peer into the car. She hissed as she felt pain shoot up her back but she bent forward even more to glance into the car. Unfortunately, the car was empty.

"Fuck!" Natasha cussed as she punched the metal of the car. Wildly, Natasha looked around for any signs of the Moreau brothers. She couldn't fail this mission. She didn't want to fail this mission. They'd come this far and they'd sacrificed so much. They couldn't fail.

Suddenly, she heard the crunching of glass and her instincts kicked in. She felt a strange presence behind her and she grabbed her gun before whipping around to come face-to-face with Pierre Moreau. He had a sly grin spread across his face as he pointed a gun towards Natasha.

"So, here we are again," Pierre drawled.

"Where's your brother?" Natasha snapped as her finger tightened around the trigger, ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

"Don't worry. He's still around," Pierre said with a mischievous smirk. Pierre's eyes glanced over at Clint and Natasha's overturned car and he smirked once again. "How's your partner doing?"

"That's none of your goddamn business," Natasha snapped.

"He must be in a bit of trouble if he's not out here with you," Pierre mused. "Is he doing okay?"

"Shut. Up," Natasha said through clenched teeth.

"You really shouldn't have left him alone," Pierre mumbled as he shook his head in disbelief. Natasha glared at the casino tycoon before swinging her gun to the side and striking him in the side of the head. Pierre groaned upon contact as he stumbled to the side. Natasha hooked her leg behind his knees, causing him to land on his back on the hard pavement. He was about to get up when Natasha aimed her gun at him again, causing him to freeze.

"Don't," Natasha said icily.

Pierre glared at Natasha before his eyes flitted to a point behind Natasha. Natasha wanted to know what he was looking at, but she'd learned that the hard way the last time and she wasn't going to risk it.

"_What_ are you looking at?" Natasha snarled.

"I don't think your partner's going to last much longer," Pierre drawled.

"So help me God, I will pull this goddamn trigger!"

"I'd like to see you - ."

The shot rang out through the tranquil night, permanently silencing the casino tycoon. Natasha stood above her victim, her trembling hand still grasping the gun. For a few seconds, she felt herself get lost in the old Natasha, the Natasha that killed and didn't give a damn. But once she regained her composure, all she could see was another target that was taken out upon SHIELD's orders.

A faint sound from behind her pulled her out of her trance and she whipped around to find Christophe lingering by the overturned car that Clint had stolen. The archer was still stuck inside but he was at Christophe's mercy. Standing next to the car, Christophe was holding a lighter, which was currently ignited. The casino tycoon's brother had a menacing smile on his face as he stared Natasha down.

Natasha aimed her gun at Christophe but she wasn't going to shoot. She needed to get him away from the car before he did anything drastic. If she shot at him, he could throw the lighter at the car at the last second and then the car would go up in flames with her partner in it.

"Put it down," Natasha growled.

"An eye for an eye," Christophe drawled.

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Natasha snapped. She was getting a little tired of hearing that saying.

"You know, Jennifer admired you, Widow," Christophe said as he strolled to the front of the car with the lighter still in his hand. Natasha arched an eyebrow at the man as she paced forward to get a little closer. "You were such a legend in Russia. She admired you for escaping. She hoped she could escape one day as well.

"Of course, she wasn't educated enough to know that you've been around her the entire time," Christophe continued. "There are plenty of red heads across the world, and you had her fooled with your fake identity that she couldn't possibly have figured out who you are. But wait 'til she finds out."

"She'll be ecstatic," Natasha said flatly, unenthused with this new development. There was too much new information that had been revealed to her in the past couple hours she wasn't quite sure how much had been processed.

"Or pissed," Christophe said with a shrug. "She gets that way."

Natasha wasn't quite sure how long they stood there, staring each other down. Every twitch of Christophe's fingers, Natasha's heart started to race, thinking he'd toss the lighter onto the car and Clint would be a goner. She needed a distraction and she needed one now.

"_Nat_," she heard Clint's voice through the comms.

"What?" Natasha hissed back.

"_Let him do it_," he said, the exhaustion in his voice was evident.

"No!" Natasha nearly shouted, causing Christophe to jump. Natasha gripped her gun, her finger ready on the trigger. But Christophe stood his ground with his fingers enclosed around the lighter.

"_Tasha, trust me on this_," Clint said. Natasha wasn't much of a crier. Then again, she could've sworn she didn't have tear ducts so therefore, she couldn't cry. But at this moment, she could've sworn she could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "_Just look away for a second_," Clint continued. "_He'll throw the lighter then you can take him down. Trust me. I'll be okay._"

Natasha couldn't possibly let this happen. It was against everything she'd been taught, not to mention her partner and goddamn boyfriend was in the car that was about to go up in flames. But she and Clint have been known to do outrageous things when the situation called for it. So, she had to trust him because right now was just one of those moments.

As obvious as possible, Natasha glanced at the ground and through the windshield of the crashed car. She could see Clint squirming in his seat and she just hoped he could get himself out if she was too late. And just as expected, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christophe toss the lighter over his shoulder to the car. That's when Natasha sprang into action and squeezed the trigger of her gun, aiming at Christophe. One, two, three times she shot at the man and he crumpled to the ground with three bullets to the chest.

Once Christophe was down for the count, Natasha sprinted to the driver's side door and forced it open with all of her strength. She looked at the flaming engine as the fire spread from the front to the back of the car. They had less than a minute – not even – until the whole car exploded.

"Clint, you're so fucking stupid!" Natasha shrieked as she crouched down to help her partner.

Clint was sawing at his seatbelt with a knife he had hidden in his boot. He'd managed to get his leg free and part of the seatbelt cut, but the knife was dull. It wasn't quite doing its job.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath. "Nat, you've got to go!"

"No!" Natasha screamed. "I'm not leaving you!"

"Natasha, just go!"

Natasha procured a knife that she'd hidden in her boot and started to saw away at the seatbelt. Her heart started to race and she'd started to breathe heavily as she sawed away at the material binding Clint to the car. When she finally cut Clint free, the archer tumbled to the ground. He barely had time to catch his breath before Natasha was dragging him from the car.

They were barely six feet away from the car when it exploded. Natasha fell to the ground and shielded Clint's body with hers, her back facing the flames. Natasha stayed like that until she was sure the explosion was over. She rolled off of Clint's body and landed on her back on the pavement with a huff.

_It's over. It's finally over_, she thought to herself. She drew in a deep breath as she stared at the sky. A faint orange hue was beginning to appear on the horizon, which only meant it was nearing dawn. They needed an extraction and clean up as soon as possible.

"Natasha…" she heard Clint's rough voice say. She was immediately pulled back to reality and realized how angry she was with her partner. She swung her fist over and punched him in the ribs. The archer yelped as Natasha pushed herself up into a sitting position. "What the hell?" he whined.

"_Never_ do that to me again!" Natasha scolded. "And call for a fucking evac. I'm mad at you."

Clint chuckled as he watched Natasha's face slowly turn to a pout. He knew his stunt scared her but he did as he was told and called for an evacuation team. He would have to talk to her about it eventually, but he just let her sit next to him and pout like the four-year-old she was acting like.

* * *

**It's over! I really hoped I could finish this story before my spring break ended, but classes resume on Monday and I still have a little bit left in this story so it doesn't look like it. I do know where I want Natasha and Clint to be sent on their next mission though (which will be the next story) and I think you guys are going to like it ;). Where will they go? Any guesses? Stay tuned!**

**Also, I had this sudden inspiration for a new story. I have no idea where it came from but I'd really like to write it. Basically, Clint goes missing on a solo mission for X-amount of time (not sure how long yet) but when he finally is rescued/recovered/reappears, Natasha has moved on from him. Therefore, he must win her back. Too much romance? Seriously, it won't be as sappy as you think it might. If you're interested, let me know! I may post it. I may not.**

**Anyways, enough of my rambling. As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

**What? Another update? You guys must be so surprised! Yes, there's still more after this, but this is all Clintasha so I think you guys will like it. Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha sat several feet away from Clint as she huddled in the SHIELD fleece that the evacuation team had given her when they'd arrived. It had taken the clean-up crew about 15 minutes to clean up the wreckage and haul away the bodies of Christophe and Pierre. When they'd finished, it was as if the showdown between the SHIELD agents and the Moreaus had never happened.

Now, they were stationed at a makeshift base on the outskirts of the principality, working on a cover story for the showdown at Pierre's hotel and casino. From the time Natasha ordered Clint to call for the evac team to the time when they'd arrived at base, she hadn't said a word to the archer. He knew he scared her with his stunt in the car so that's why she was pouting and giving him the silent treatment. But when Clint noticed the various SHIELD agents buzzing around the makeshift base giving them strange looks, Clint knew he had to talk to her whether she liked it or not.

With a grunt, Clint rose from his chair and limped towards Natasha. When they'd arrived at the SHIELD base, both Clint and Natasha had been checked out by SHIELD medical personnel. Based on the blood running down the side of her face, Natasha had received a pretty nasty gash on her temple from the crash with a concussion to go with it. Other than the usual bumps and bruises, she was fine. Clint was fine too, but he had twisted his knee when he had pried his leg free in the car. Clint had insisted his knee was fine as he was getting checked by medical but when he had looked up, his eyes met an ice cold glare from Natasha. From there on out, he had complied with the medical team and they wrapped his leg in a brace to keep his knee stable.

Clint wasn't much of a whiner, but as he limped the last few steps towards Natasha, he could feel his knee protesting. He couldn't help but let out a tiny whimper as he dragged a chair across the floor next to Natasha and fell into it. The red-headed assassin didn't say a word as her partner sat down in the chair next to her, nor did she meet his gaze. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the floor and let her arms hug her body.

As Clint watched his partner in silence, he knew this wasn't just about him. Something else had happened out there that had affected Natasha so greatly. He was definitely a huge part of it but he knew there had to be more to it.

Clint had to admit he was afraid to talk to his partner. He could practically feel the anger radiating from her. But Clint's concern for Natasha's well-being was more important than how angry she was with him. So, the archer swallowed his pride, cleared his throat, and softly called out his partner's name.

He didn't expect her to divert her attention to him. That was the last thing Clint expected after addressing her. But Clint was persistent. He was going to get her attention and she was going to like it. She would talk to him whether she liked it or not.

"Tasha," Clint said gruffly once again. Of course, Natasha didn't answer him. Her eyes were still trained on the floor but Clint could see she was biting the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she'd picked up over the years from the stress of working at SHIELD. Now Clint was getting pissed because something was bothering her and he didn't know what it was.

"Goddammit Natasha, would you look at me?" Clint said with more authority this time. Natasha's head immediately whipped to the side to glare at Clint. Whenever he asserted his authority over her, it almost always grabbed her attention. "Thank you," he huffed angrily. "Will you fucking talk to me?"

The red-head stared back at the archer with her green eyes. They were tired and weary, but there was so much more behind those green eyes. There was fear and Clint Barton was the only person who could detect it.

"Natasha," Clint said more calmly this time. "Please talk to me."

Natasha broke eye contact with Clint to bring her gaze to her land. She stared at her hands, which were now folded neatly in her lap. She continued to bite the inside of her cheek as she contemplated telling her partner what she was really feeling. She knew she could tell Clint anything. He wasn't one to judge. He had been through the same stuff that she had before he'd been recruited to SHIELD. But she couldn't help but get the feeling that he would judge her.

"I…" she started but trailed off. She was nervous to tell him. She knew he'd think she was crazy. There was no possible way she was reverting back to her old ways of killing. The order to take out the Moreaus had been issued by SHIELD, not by some random contract who was going to pay her handsomely in the end.

"I-I just feel like I'm losing myself," Natasha said shakily. "I feel like I'm reverting back to my old ways." She turned her head to glance over at Clint. Her partner was nodding in understanding but he wasn't saying a word. That's when she knew she could continue. "I felt nothing when I killed Pierre and Christophe," she continued. "It didn't feel like I was doing it for the greater good. It felt like I was doing it because I had to and I didn't give two shits about it.

"And Rome," she sighed as she hung her head. She felt her hands grip the edge of her seat as the memories of the botched mission flooded her mind. She took a deep breath before raising her head again. But she didn't dare meet the eyes of her partner so she stared straight ahead instead. "Rome," she stated once again. "I tortured Bosco. I guess that was the first indicator that I was reverting back to my old ways. He was a bad man but I tortured him. And I _liked_ it."

Natasha felt a chill run up and down her spine at the announcement of her confession. It was only small indicators but she knew that little by little, she'd begin to lose herself into the old Natasha. She didn't want to be the old Natasha. She'd come so far to get to where she was now that she couldn't revert to her old ways. There was too much red in her ledger to go back to that version of Natasha.

"That's why I nearly lost it when you told me to leave you," Natasha confessed as she turned her head to meet Clint's gaze. "I know you wouldn't let me go back to that version of Natasha. But if you weren't here, I'm not so sure I could stop it myself. If I was going back to being the Natasha who killed for the fun of it, there is only one person who could bring me back. And that's you."

It was a lot for Clint to take in, but he understood why she felt the way she did. Clint had seen something in Natasha when he'd chosen to make a different call all those years ago. She was a scared and confused girl, and he saw that same girl sitting right next to him right now. Clint had been the only person to break down her walls when she joined SHIELD and she trusted him more than any other person. If she'd lost him, Clint could see why she'd think she'd lose her way again.

"Nat," Clint said roughly. "You don't have to worry about that. You're not reverting back to your old ways. I wouldn't let you."

"But who's to say you won't die on me, Barton?" Natasha snapped.

"I can't guarantee it," Clint shot back. "And you can't promise that to me either. Today was a fluke, okay? But from here on out, I promise that I won't give up without a fight. Understand?"

Clint saw the corners of Natasha's mouth twitch and that was when he knew he was getting _his_ Natasha back. She was too much of a fighter to give him a genuine smile around other people, but that small twitch was enough.

"If you break that promise, Barton, you can bet I will find your ass in the afterlife and beat the shit out of you," Natasha said.

"That's the Natasha I know," Clint said with a grin as he snaked an arm across her shoulders and pulled her into his side. As much as Natasha hated public displays of affection, her body was just too tired to resist. She snuggled into Clint's side as she wrapped an arm around the base of his back.

The pair stayed like that until the SHIELD team started to dismantle the makeshift base. By that time, both Clint and Natasha were slowly fading in and out of consciousness as the past 24 hours' events caught up with them. Once the base was dismantled and packed away, the only thing that remained were the two deadly assassins, fast asleep in each other's arms. The only problem was which SHIELD employee was going to have the honor of waking the two assassins.

To say the least, they drew straws and felt bad for the poor sap whom got the shortest straw.

* * *

**Natasha's afraid she'll go back to her old ways if she loses Clint. How sweet. But Clint's not going anywhere. At least he says he isn't. Haha, I'm not that mean. I could never do that to Clint. Anyways, like I said, this isn't the end. I usually try to make my fics at least 15 chapters long so there's at least 2 more chapters left. And you still have time to try to guess where Clint and Natasha are going for their next mission in my next fic in this series. Take a guess!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Alright everyone, here's the penultimate chapter of _Off To The Races_. I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was about an hour later when they touched down at the base in Paris, tired and disheveled. Natasha felt like she desperately needed a shower while Clint just wanted to put some ice on his knee and conk out. But both Clint and Natasha knew that wouldn't happen based on the frantic scene that greeted them when they stepped off of the Quinjet and onto the Paris base.

The base was in a frenzy as they were most likely still trying to develop a cover story for the bombings of Pierre Moreau's hotel and casino, as well as a story for Pierre and Christophe's deaths. Several SHIELD agents were furiously typing away on laptops and desktops while others were filing paperwork. Some agents were sprinting across the base to consult other agents before hurrying back to their work stations to continue entering information into the online database.

Slowly and sluggishly, Clint and Natasha made their way across the base to the living quarters they'd been temporarily assigned for their overnight stay at the base. They followed the director of the Paris base through the frenzy until they reached a door on the other side of the vast room. The director of the SHIELD base pushed it open and led the SHIELD agents down a silent hallway.

They finally reached the end of the hall and the director of the Paris base paused outside of a door. He pulled out a key card and scanned it on the pad on the wall beside the door. The light on the keypad glowed green and the director grabbed the doorknob and pushed open the door. He stepped aside as Clint and Natasha dragged their feet into the living quarters.

Once they were through the door, Clint turned around and retrieved the key from the director before giving him a nod. The director returned the gesture and then turned on his heel to head back down the hall. Carefully, Clint slipped back into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him.

It was dimly lit in the room and Clint could see Natasha sprawled out on her stomach on the king-sized bed. Her feet were dangling over the foot of the bed while one of her arms was draped over the side. She was still dressed in her SHIELD catsuit and her boots were still firmly strapped to her feet. The sight of Natasha sprawled out on the bed put a smile on Clint's face.

With a slight limp in his step, Clint made his way across the room and flopped down on the bed next to Natasha, causing her small body to slightly bounce in the air. She landed back on the bed and flipped her curls out of her face to glare at her partner. Clint smugly grinned back at her as he locked his fingers together and rested his hands behind his head.

The two SHIELD agents laid on the bed in silence. The only sound filling the silence was the sound of their faint breathing. It had been a long day. Hell, the day had barely even started. It was only nine in the morning for crying out loud. But Clint and Natasha knew that if they fell asleep, they'd sleep through the rest of the day and throughout the whole night until they had to leave for the New York base at ten o'clock the next morning.

Clint felt his eyes start to slide shut and he let out a sigh as sleep started to overtake him. Just as he felt himself start to drift asleep, he felt the bed shift next to him as Natasha snuggled up into Clint's side. He felt a goofy smile spread across his face as he snaked an arm around her back and pulled her closer to him.

"Clint?" she said softly to get his attention. Clint grunted in response, his eyes still closed and on the verge of sleep. "Clint, I want to talk to her."

"Hmmm? Who?" Clint replied sleepily with a sigh.

"Jennifer," Natasha said bluntly. Clint's eyes snapped open and he turned his head to face his partner, furrowing his brow in confusion at her statement. "She must be so confused."

While Clint and Natasha had been battling Pierre's men in the hotel, the SHIELD rescue team was retrieving Jennifer and Oksana from Clint and Natasha's hotel suite. They had also cleared out the room of Clint and Natasha's belongings and cleaned it up to erase all traces of Clint and Natasha having been there. But the SHIELD rescue team had brought Jennifer and Oksana to the SHIELD base, along with the rest of Pierre's trafficked women and Jennifer's son. Natasha knew she had to be around here somewhere.

"She probably has so many questions, Clint," Natasha continued. "She's probably pissed off at us, too."

"So what?" Clint grumbled as his eyes drifted shut again and he shifted into a more comfortable position. "We saved her life. She and her son are safe. SHIELD will take care of her and her son from here on out."

Natasha pried herself from Clint's arms and sat upright on the bed. Clint's eyes popped open as he saw Natasha slide off the bed and head for the door.

"Wait, Nat, are you mad at me or something?" Clint asked. When Natasha didn't turn around or answer him, he figured he got his answer. "Okay, I'm sorry. Yes, she deserves to know but talking to her won't make it any better. Don't you think she'd be mad because we betrayed her?"

"That's why I have to go talk to her," Natasha said, her back still facing Clint. "She needs to hear it from me. Otherwise, she'll never forgive us."

"Tasha, we're probably never going to see her again - ."

"Yeah, and I thought I'd never see Yelena again and look how that turned out," Natasha snapped.

Clint felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Clint knew Natasha was still running from her past. He knew she'd always be running from it. But she didn't have to snap at him because he of all people never thought he'd see Yelena ever again either. Even if Jennifer had the power or the guts to execute revenge, he didn't think she would do it anyways. After all, Clint and Natasha did save her from the people who trafficked her in the first place.

But Clint could tell Natasha was afraid Jennifer would come after her. Of course Clint didn't want someone else coming after Natasha but he wanted to let her know that she didn't have anything to worry about. Natasha may have broken Jennifer's trust, but the woman was far from capable of getting revenge, especially when she had a little boy to look after.

"Tasha," Clint said softly as he pushed off of the bed and limped towards the red-headed agent frozen in front of the door. "I'm sorry, okay?" He reached his partner, whose back was still facing Clint. He carefully reached out and rested his hands on her arms from behind. "We'll go, okay? I'll go with you."

Natasha nodded silently before setting her hand on the doorknob and twisting it to open the door. She pulled the door open and slowly strode out into the hallway while Clint limped out behind her, grabbing the key car on his way out. The door swung shut behind them, leaving them in the silent white hallway of the Paris SHIELD base. With a reassuring look at one another, they silently and carefully made their way down the hall to find Jennifer Moreau.

* * *

It didn't take long to track down the room Jennifer and her son were staying in. Similar to the SHIELD agents in New York, the Paris SHIELD agents were careless as to where they set their files. Natasha was easily able to swipe the documents off of a table, skim them for Jennifer's name, and return them to their former resting place all before the SHIELD agent returned to retrieve them. By that time, Natasha was back with Clint and heading down the hall towards Jennifer's living quarters.

Jennifer's living quarters were located in a different wing of the Paris SHIELD base than the living quarters Clint and Natasha had been assigned to. It was on the other side of the base, far away from Clint and Natasha's living quarters. Not only was it a different wing on the complete opposite side of the SHIELD base, but it was also where the rest of the rescued women were being housed. In Clint and Natasha's eyes, SHIELD figured they needed some time away from the subjects of their mission. But that definitely was not the case.

Clint and Natasha finally reached the door to Jennifer's living quarters. The room was located about halfway down the eerily silent hall. All of the SHIELD bases were equipped with sound proof walls, but with the past 24 hours all of these women have had, Clint and Natasha expected to hear some sort of celebration going on. Clearly they were wrong.

There was a chance that Jennifer and her son could be sleeping, hence why Clint and Natasha hesitated outside of Jennifer's door, contemplating whether they should knock or not. After several minutes of deliberation, Clint limped forward and raised his fist to rap his knuckles on the door. He waited a couple seconds before backing up to stand next to Natasha and wait for Jennifer to answer the door.

It took a couple seconds until Clint and Natasha heard noises coming from the other side of the door. There was a childish whine, followed by the soft whispering of a woman's voice. A few seconds later, they heard sounds of faint footsteps nearing the door, then the sound of the door unlocking. The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Jennifer. Her long blonde hair was a rat's nest and there were dark circles under her eyes. Behind her, in the twisted bed sheets, was her son, Jacques. He was sleepily rubbing one of his eyes as he stared past his mother at the two SHIELD agents outside the door.

"Can I help you?" Jennifer asked wearily.

"Do you have time to talk?" Natasha asked politely.

"I suppose," Jennifer sighed as she stepped aside to invite Clint and Natasha into the room. Clint gestured forward to let Natasha go first and the red head stepped into the room hesitantly. As soon as Natasha stepped into the room, Jennifer turned away from her to head back to the bed. Natasha stepped further into the room with Clint on her heels. Natasha heard the door close with a _snick _behind her just as Jennifer took a seat on the bed next to Jacques, who was very close to drifting back to sleep.

Awkwardly, Clint and Natasha stood in the middle of the room, waiting for Jennifer to turn her attention back to them. They watched as she soothingly rubbed Jacques' back to lull him back to sleep. When the small child was completely back in dreamland, Jennifer turned her attention back to Clint and Natasha. Natasha had to admit that she expected her eyes to be full of anger and fury. Instead, they were tired and worrisome.

"So, you wanted to talk?" Jennifer said, being the first of the trio to break the silence.

Now Natasha didn't know what to say. She was finally standing in front of the person she had so desperately wanted to talk to and now she was drawing a blank.

"An explanation is in order," Clint chimed in. He could tell his partner was unsure of what to say now that she was standing right in front of Jennifer. It was going to take some time for Natasha to actually say something to Jennifer, but for now, Clint would get the conversation going.

"I suppose there is," Jennifer sighed.

Clint nodded in understanding. "Do you mind if we sit?" he asked as he gestured towards the love seat in the corner of the room.

"No, not at all," Jennifer said as she shook her head. Clint nodded and then limped over to the love seat. He had to admit that his knee was killing him. That was why he had asked to sit down in the first place. But if they stood the entire time, it would make it seem as if Clint and Natasha were towering over her the entire time. They didn't want to make it seem like they were superior to her. They wanted to be her equal.

Clint plopped down on the love seat, and seconds later, Natasha followed. He shot her a reassuring smile before turning back to Jennifer. The blonde had returned to soothingly rubbing her son's back, but there was a faint smile spread across her face as she stared at her son adoringly.

"You're probably wondering what is going on," Clint said.

"That's quite an understatement," Jennifer scoffed.

"I agree," Clint said. "If I were you, I'd be extremely confused right now. I'd even be angry."

"I have nothing to be angry about," the blonde said. "I'm just very confused and I want some answers."

"And you're going to get them," Clint said. "Anything you want to know. Go ahead, ask us anything."

Jennifer stared back at Clint in awe. Clint could tell she didn't quite expect someone to be so open to sharing the details of the past 24 hours with her.

"Who are you two?" Jennifer asked.

"Going straight for the jugular," Natasha muttered under her breath. It took every ounce of control in Clint's body not to snort a laugh. But once he got over that, he realized that his partner had finally piped up. Whether she was ready to actually talk to Jennifer, he wasn't sure, so Clint just continued.

"We're SHIELD agents," Clint stated. "We were assigned to a mission in Monaco to take down your husband and brother-in-law because of their association with human trafficking."

"It's about time," Jennifer muttered as she cast her gaze downward at her sleeping son.

Clint couldn't help but chuckle. "I guess SHIELD had it with their bullshit," he said. "It was time for us to take them down."

"Indeed," Jennifer agreed. "But you didn't quite answer my question." The blonde tore her eyes from the sleeping child and stared down the two SHIELD agents sitting on the love seat directly across from the bed. "Who are you two?"

Clint knew he was beating around the bush. Actually, it had been unintentional. But to be completely honest, Clint wasn't quite sure he was able to answer that question. He had been more than willing to admit who he was and what he does, but now that Jennifer was asking, he was choking.

"His name's Clint," Natasha chimed in. "Clint Barton. Your husband and brother-in-law knew him better as Hawkeye, the world's greatest marksman."

Jennifer nodded in understanding, but nothing on her face registered that she was angry, sad, or even frightened over that tidbit of information. "And you?" she asked Natasha. "What about you? Who are you?"

This was the moment Natasha was afraid of. She wasn't quite sure how Jennifer would react to the fact that Natasha was the infamous Black Widow that had given her hope after all these years. There was only one way to find out.

"My name is Natasha Romanoff," Natasha said after taking a deep breath. "I'm also a SHIELD agent, but you may know me better as the Black Widow."

Natasha saw Jennifer's eyes go wide and her jaw dropped at her admission. "No," she gasped.

"Yes," Natasha said flatly. "I'm only here because of the person sitting next to me." She stopped to glance over at Clint, who gave Natasha a reassuring smile. "He was sent to kill me years ago, but he made a different call," Natasha continued. "I haven't looked back since."

"I heard so much about you," Jennifer gasped. "Your circumstances were different than mine, but I always thought that if you could escape Russia, then I could too. Turns out I was wrong." The blonde glumly bowed her head in defeat. Her eyes were trained on her lap and her hand was no longer resting on her son's back.

"But you did," Clint said. "Look at where you are now."

"They'll send me back," Jennifer said as she shook her head. Her gaze was still trained on her lap. "I'll be right back where I started, maybe even worse off because I have Jacques now."

"You won't," Natasha snapped. "SHIELD is going to take care of you, and not just you, but all of the girls that were rescued. SHIELD is the good guys."

Jennifer nodded her head in understanding. "I know," she said solemnly. "That's what they told me, but I don't quite believe them."

"You can trust them," Natasha stated. "They'll take care of you. I'll make sure of it."

Jennifer's eyes grew wide again as she stared at Natasha. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked in shock.

"I could ask you the same question," Natasha shot back.

Jennifer looked shocked. She clearly hadn't been expecting Natasha to respond to that in the way that she did. "I practically tortured you," Jennifer whispered.

"I betrayed you and nearly slept with your husband - ."

"_Ex_- husband," Jennifer spat. "Though I suppose that's not what he is since he's dead. I guess that makes me a widow now."

"In any case, I earned your trust and then betrayed you. We should both be angry at each other but I'm not. And clearly you're not either. So why aren't you angry?" Natasha asked.

"You helped set us free," Jennifer whispered as she glanced at Jacques, who was still asleep. "Anyone could have done it and I would've been equally as grateful to them as I am to you. What I want to know is why _you_ are being so nice to _me_?"

Natasha shrugged. "It's part of the job and I've been through far worse. Being tortured is just like another day at the office for us."

Natasha saw Jennifer's eyes widen again. "That's horrible!"

Natasha shrugged again. "Comes with the job."

Jennifer nodded in understanding, but both Clint and Natasha could see she was still beyond shocked at Natasha's confession. An eerie silence fell among the trio and they sat awkwardly in the room together, none of them acknowledging one another. Clint and Natasha felt like they said all that they had needed to say, but at the same time, they felt like there was so much more to say.

After a few more minutes, Clint eased himself into a standing position and stretched his arms above his head, feeling the muscles in his back loosen. When he felt refreshed and awake, he lowered his arms to his sides and then glanced behind him to look at Natasha. She glanced up at him with her bright green eyes and he reached a hand out to pull her up from the couch. She stared at his hand for a couple seconds before taking hold of it and being pulled to her feet.

Clint knew they couldn't just leave things open-ended with Jennifer. An awkward silence between them wasn't the way to go. So, he turned back to Jennifer and flashed a warm smile at her. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay, Jennifer," Clint said. "It's a lot to go through in less than 24 hours."

Jennifer shook her head. "I'll be fine," she said. "But I appreciate your concern."

"If you need someone to talk to, we'll be here until nine o'clock tomorrow morning," Natasha suggested. "Just ask one of the SHIELD agents running around and I'm sure they'll take you to our living quarters."

Jennifer nodded in understanding as the two SHIELD agents turned on their heels to head towards the door. But, the blonde woman had one more question for the SHIELD duo.

"Hang on a second," she said suddenly, causing Clint and Natasha to stop dead in their tracks and turn back to Jennifer. "Are you two really married or was that just a cover?" she asked curiously.

Clint snorted a laugh while Natasha glared at the blonde. "We're not married," Natasha snapped.

"Okay, sorry," Jennifer said defensively. "I can tell it's a sore subject."

Natasha was going to protest when Clint cut her off. "Our field of work doesn't exactly allow us to be married."

"Oh," Jennifer said dejectedly. "It's a shame. You two act like a married couple. You know each other so well too. That was the only thing about you two that had me convinced about your act in Monaco."

Clint snorted another laugh but it was cut short when Natasha elbowed him in the ribs. "Goodbye Jennifer," Natasha said as she started to turn to the door.

"Please, call me Olia," she said in response.

Clint and Natasha glanced at one another before looking back at the blonde sitting on the bed. "Of course," Clint said. "Goodbye…Olia."

The trio bid one another goodbye and the two SHIELD agents slipped out of the room. The door closed quietly behind them and they started to make their way down the hall in silence. They were almost out of the wing when Clint broke the silence.

"Oh my God, you should've seen your face when she asked if we were married," he said with a chuckle.

"Shut it, Barton, or your sleeping on the floor tonight."

* * *

**And that's the last we'll see of Jennifer/Olia Moreau. We still have one more chapter and that's when I'll reveal where Clint and Natasha are headed next. Keep those guesses coming, even though someone has guessed it already ;).**

**Also, I think I'll post the first chapter of my new fic sometime this weekend. Just to let those of you know who were interested in it. It will most likely be called _Wherever You Will Go._ Keep a look out for it, but if it isn't posted by end of this weekend, then definitely next weekend.  
**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please leave a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Alright, here it is, the final chapter for _Off To The Races_. I know it may seem a little short but I kind of like how it turned out. Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

Nine a.m. came far too quickly for Clint and Natasha. When their wake up call rang at eight o'clock, the SHIELD agents rolled out of bed with a groan and rummaged through their suitcases for a clean set of clothes. To save time – and water – they showered together and then slowly dressed before heading out of the room with their suitcases in tow.

They reached the aircraft hangar within a few minutes; a Quinjet was fueled and ready for them when they arrived. They crossed the hangar and stowed their luggage on the Quinjet before walking off to bid farewell to the director of the Paris base. Both Clint and Natasha shook the director's hand before turning on their heels to return to the Quinjet.

They walked across the aircraft and strapped themselves into their respective pilot and co-pilot seats. Clint flipped up the proper switches and pressed the correct buttons, and before they knew it, they were streaking across the base and lifting off into the air to head to New York.

When they'd reached the right altitude, Clint turned on the auto-pilot and leaned back in his seat to relax for the flight. Natasha unstrapped herself from her seat and then stood up to retrieve a book from her suitcase to pass the time. By the time Natasha returned to her seat, Clint was half asleep with his feet propped up on the control panel in front of him. Natasha rolled her eyes at her partner as she plopped down in her seat and cracked open her book.

She had been reading her book for a half hour when Clint stirred beside her. At first, she just thought that he was adjusting his position to a more comfortable one. But when he stirred again – albeit more violently – that's when Natasha knew this was so much more. She slammed her book shut and set it on the floor as she rose from her seat and carefully approached her partner. He jerked his head to the side as he mumbled incoherently to himself.

"Clint," Natasha muttered quietly. The archer's head jerked to the side as he muttered to himself again. "Clint," she said again. Natasha stood a good distance away from her partner, but close enough so that if she needed to intervene at a moment's notice. She knew better than to touch him when he was having a nightmare, but if it didn't stop soon, she was going to have to.

The archer let out a pained whimper and Natasha watched as his hands gripped the armrests of his seat. Natasha knew his nightmare wasn't getting to the point that it was out of control, but she needed to intervene. Watching him suffer was just too much for her to bear.

"Clint!"

The archer's eyes popped open and his hand balled into a fist, ready to strike. He swung forward but Natasha caught his fist in her hand. The two agents stared at one another – blue eyes boring into green – until Clint realized what he'd nearly done. With a groan, Clint pulled away and cradled his head in his hands.

"What was it?" Natasha asked curiously.

Clint sighed as he shook his head, which was still resting in his hands. He was hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. His shoulders were tense and his fingers were digging into his hair.

"Clint," she said more softly this time. "What's wrong?"

There was a deafening silence as Clint continued to ignore her. At least, in Natasha's eyes, he was ignoring her. But in reality, she knew he was trying to regain his sanity. So when he finally collected himself, he blew out a breath and sat up properly in his seat. He didn't look right at Natasha at first. Instead, he opted to stare out the Quinjet's windshield at the bright blue sky and the fluffy clouds.

When he finally spoke up, it was a mumble and Natasha had to strain her hearing to understand what he was saying. "You're not the only one running from your past, Tasha," he said.

Natasha shook her head. She knew he had a dark past, just like she did. She didn't need to be reminded that he had a rough past, one that he was always going to be running from no matter what. She knew everything about him so she knew that his past haunted him in his dreams. They even haunted them when he was awake, but he didn't make that known. But Natasha knew whether he liked it or not.

"I know that," Natasha said softly as she lowered herself to a crouch next to his seat. "Clint, just tell me."

"I saw Barney," Clint said flatly.

The SHIELD agents were silent at the confession of this new development. Natasha nodded her head slowly in understanding. But even though she knew everything there was to know about Clint's brother, there was no way she could ever fully understand what happened between the brothers.

"He's my brother," Clint said slowly. "He's out there somewhere I don't even know, but he still haunts me. That bastard still haunts the fuck out of me."

"Hey, Clint," Natasha said softly. "Don't worry about it. He won't come near you. I'll make sure of it. SHIELD will make sure of it. They wouldn't let anything happen to their best marksman."

Clint blew out another breath as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He groaned as he removed his hands from his eyes. "I just…now I know why you wanted to make amends with Jennifer. Or Olia, I guess," he said, correcting himself on the proper name. "You never made things right with Yelena and she came after you. You made amends with Olia and she doesn't think any less of you.

"What if…" he said, trailing off. Natasha could almost see the internal battle taking place as he tried to concoct how to properly phrase what he wanted to say. "What if my past comes back to wreak havoc on me because I haven't made things right? What if Barney comes back for me?"

"He won't," Natasha growled. "And if he does, I will make his life a living hell before I put a bullet between his eyes."

Clint chuckled weakly as he rested his head against the back of his seat. "It just feels weird," he said. "I haven't had a nightmare like that in a while. It's just weird that I have one now."

"It happens," Natasha said as she shrugged her shoulders. "They come at the worst and most inconvenient times. You know I can empathize."

Clint turned his head slightly to the side to face Natasha and offer her a weak smile. "I guess so," he sighed. He straightened up in his seat and then leaned forward to absentmindedly fiddle with the control panel. "Think we'll get a lot of shit from Fury for the destruction we caused on the mission?" Clint asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

Natasha stared at Clint for a couple seconds before standing up and returning to her seat. "No one at the Paris base seemed pissed. Then again, this is Fury we're talking about," she said as she retrieved her book from the floor and cracked it open again. She skimmed the page to find where she left off and she began to scan the page as the delved deeper into the story once again.

She was about a couple pages into the story from where she left off when she was Clint shift in his seat to return to a more comfortable position. There was silence as Natasha continued to read her book and Clint stared out the Quinjet's windshield, but after a couple more minutes, Clint broke the silence.

"Nat, thank you," he said softly.

Natasha felt a smile twitch at the corner of her lips, but her eyes didn't leave the page. "Always, Barton."

* * *

**I know it sort of ended strangely, but it isn't the end because there's another story coming up. Speaking of the next story, only one reviewer guessed where Clint and Natasha are headed next. So I have to give kudos to Bad Wolf and Timelords because yes, Clint and Natasha are headed to...Budapest! Here's a small summary of the story (and when I mean small, I mean small because I only have a vague idea as to what I want to happen haha):**

_**State of**_** _Grace _**

**When Clint and Natasha are sent back to Budapest for a mission, they find not just their relationship, but their partnership being tested.**

* * *

**Anyways, I hope you guys liked this story. When the new story is up, I'll post a note in this story, as well as in _To Rome With Love,_ so keep a look out for it. Okay, so now I have to do all my thanks yous because I seriously cannot thank you guys enough for supporting my stories and my writing. I seriously don't know why I'm a Political Science major since I've always liked to write haha. So, here it goes, thank you to Malmal86, Bad Wolf and Timelords, sv4me, mholub00, bootsandhughes, Orion84, MJ Lynn, Waterlilies, jinxcharm, pure-black-wings, Emmi2507, Anna, tiny goth girl, Chasing Constellations, IronJedi, shila1378, goatgod, KrystalEdge, LNCrow, anael20, Gingerjam, Precious93, anteffyhotmail, Llatias, lilypad8607, Steph, narwhales, ZeDancingHobbit, Coley Coughlin, Ariis, Lollypops101, GenderBentHawkeye, patty cake rocks, Hawaiichick, CaptainBri-Mazing, NoLongerHidden, BrittKR, ClintashaLover, and all of the guest reviewers. **

**Thank you so much for reading my work. It means a lot and it continues to mean a lot. One last time, please review this chapter to let me know what you think and keep a look out for the sequel, _State of Grace_. I love you all. Thank you so much!**


	16. Author's Note

Hey everyone! Just in case you don't subscribe to author alerts, the sequel to this story has been posted. It is entitled _State of Grace_ (yes, named after the Taylor Swift song. Don't judge me!) Here is a more detailed summary than I provided at the end of this fic:

When Clint and Natasha are assigned a mission that sends them back to Budapest, they find themselves facing their past. As they struggle to survive and conquer, they find not only their relationship, but their partnership being tested.

I hope you guys are still interested in taking another journey with Clint, Natasha, and myself! :) I appreciate the support! Thank you so much!


End file.
